


Roll of Thunder, Hear my Cry

by aeoleus



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: (slow-burn), Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Fire Lord Zuko, Gaang (Avatar) as Family, Gen, Hurt Zuko (Avatar), Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Politics, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, post-war politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:22:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26825089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeoleus/pseuds/aeoleus
Summary: (“You’re not sleeping,” Mai says softly.“How’d you know?” Zuko asks.To be honest, he’s kind of gotten to the point where he’s surprised that anyone can perceive him outside of his necessary functions- he exists solely to sit in council meetings and shoulder the blame for genocides and famines and the suffering of one-hundred years. Doesn’t he?)The war is over, but the fallout is just beginning. And where lightning strikes, thunder is bound to follow.[REPOSTED- ACCIDENTALLY ORPHANED]
Relationships: (but minor and not the focus), Mai/Zuko (Avatar), Zuko/therapy and a vacation
Comments: 19
Kudos: 182





	1. Zuko Faces a Dilemma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all!  
> This work was orphaned by accident. I’m the original author, so im re-uploading everything as it was originally. Please check my tumblr (ta1k-less) and my profile for links to re-uploaded works or updates. So sorry for the inconvenience!  
> \---------------------------------------
> 
> hi all! This is gonna end up being 3-4 chapters and it's almost done already, so I'll try and post every few days.
> 
> Captain Izumi is taken from the wonderful Muffinlance's list of OCs, which can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24322483
> 
> The title is taken from the novel by Mildred D. Taylor, which is about American racial tensions and class issues (and is a WONDERFUL book, highly recommend), but I would like to take this opportunity to note that the title is taken purely for the metaphorical meaning it holds related to this fic and isn’t an allusion to themes of the original novel. I know that nothing can exist in a vacuum so I just wanted to explain this so there wouldn’t be any confusion!
> 
> and SPECIAL shoutout to every "fire lord zuko' fic that exists out there for a. giving me endless serotonin and b. inspiring this work :)

Sleep doesn't come easy these days.

Zuko tosses and turns most nights, and he's lucky if he gets two or three hours before Agni's face crests above the Caldera wall and he wakes up with dry eyes and a pounding head. 

(Zuko won’t ever admit it, but the best sleep he ever got was on the stone ground of the Western Air Temple after Boiling Rock, with the fire crackling low and Toph pressed to his side and Sokka draped half over him and half over Suki and-)

The first night of his reign isn’t terrible. Sure, he jerks awake from a horrific nightmare and immediately wants to throw up from pain, but, oh, there’s Katara and Aang, only a few feet away, and Sokka and Suki are alive and asleep next to him, and Toph is still using him as a personal space heater, so maybe the walls are coated in deep red and Azula's electricity is still pulsing up from his chest into his throat, but he’s _okay_ , so he sleeps. 

But then they’re pulled to the edges of the world- Sokka and Katara go home to see their family, and Aang goes with them, Suki reunites with the rest of the Kyoshi warriors, Toph reluctantly goes to see her parents, and Zuko is left alone. 

The war is over, thank Agni, but the aftermath is fucked up in an entirely different way _._ There are reparations and colonies and famines, he wants his Uncle, he can’t tell who’s loyal to him and who’s loyal to power, he misses his friends, his _own_ people are starving, orphans need to be housed, trade routes established, he misses Mai, oh Agni, he has to replace General Gao, the man is homicidal- he wants someone to care, but no one has ever cared, oh spirits- 

He loses track of time, like he has before and probably will again. Days easily bleed into night into day when you’re trying to figure out how many prisoners at Boiling Rock are being justly held and how many need to be released.

Mai comes by, when she can. She stops him in the hallway when he’s on his way to his office to hash out emergency legislation to prevent a complete economic collapse one morning. Why his father ever thought it was a good idea to have their economy nearly completely dependent on the military is _beyond_ him. 

There’s no expression on her face as she reaches up to smooth down some hair that has escaped its hold, but her warm hand settles around his scarred cheekbone, and Zuko has to blink back sudden tears that rush unbidden to his eyes. 

“You’re not sleeping,” Mai says softly. 

“How’d you know?” Zuko asks. 

To be honest, he’s kind of gotten to the point where he’s surprised that anyone can perceive him outside of his necessary functions- he exists solely to sit in council meetings and shoulder the blame for genocides and famines and the suffering of a hundred years. Doesn’t he?

Mai quirks an eyebrow. 

“Have you looked in a mirror lately?” She asks. Zuko shrugs. 

“Maybe if I thought there was something worth looking at.”

Mai rolls her eyes and stands on tip-toe to kiss his cheek before she disappears down the hall, and Zuko swipes roughly at his eyes before he continues into his office. 

Someone drags him away from his desk a few hours before sunrise and pushes him into bed, and he’s just so fucking _tired,_ he doesn’t even question it when arms wrap around his waist and smooth back his hair. 

No one’s there when he wakes at sunrise. Zuko swallows thickly and forces himself up and tries not to think too hard about the gnawing pit growing in the center of his stomach. 

* * *

There’s a child under his desk. 

Zuko hasn’t slept well in, you know, six years, so for a minute, he’s pretty sure he’s hallucinating the toddler who’s babbling and waving her hands around underneath his desk in his study. 

But then he blinks and rubs his eyes hard, and that usually dispels of his hallucinations, and the child is still there, so-

“Uh,” Zuko says awkwardly. “Hello.” 

The child startles. And promptly bursts into tears. 

“Oh, Agni, uh, here, wait-” 

Zuko drops down to her level and tries his best to not look intimidating- shit, half his face is disfigured, is that why she’s crying?

The child crawls out from under the desk and throws her arms around Zuko’s neck- okay, maybe it’s not why she’s crying- and now there’s a child sobbing into his shoulder, what the fuck, but also, _same, kid._

“Uh, it’s alright, it’s okay,” Zuko says in what he hopes is a calm voice, and pats the child’s back. She heaves a great, big, shuddering sob, and suddenly is quiet. 

  
Her head sticks out, and she furrows her little brows like she’s studying him. Zuko scrunches up his nose and she giggles. 

  
“What’s your name?” He asks, pulling his legs out so he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor. 

“Hana,” She says. “I’m three.” She holds up three fingers and grins a toothy little smile. Zuko smiles a little, in spite of himself. 

“Hi, Hana. I’m Zuko. I’m, uh, sixteen.”

“Zu- Ko.” She sounds out. 

“Good job!” He grins. “Where did you come from?” 

Hana’s lip wobbles a little.  
“Lost my mama,” She says, and she looks dangerously close to wailing again so Zuko decides to distract her by swinging her up and settling her on his hip as he stands. He goes to the doorway and sticks his head out to get a guard’s attention. 

“Hey, um-” Zuko points at Hana, who’s happily messing with one of his epaulets. “I found her?”  
The guard’s eyes widen.

“Sir, I’m- I can take her, I apologize deeply for this.” 

The guard reaches for Hana, who shrieks and buries her head into Zuko’s neck. Zuko frowns and immediately places a hand on her back. 

“No, it’s fine. Just- do you know- where she came from?” He asks stiltedly. 

“Sir, I believe one of the maids had to bring in her daughter today- young lady, is your mother’s name Kima?” 

Hana sniffs and nods. 

“Okay,” Zuko says. “Uh, can you please inform Kima that I found Hana, and to come get her when she can?” 

The guard bows and takes off down the hall, and Zuko looks at Hana, who’s making grabby hands at his crown. Zuko reaches up and undos the crown, depositing it in her little hand. She makes a delighted sound and tries to place it on top of her own short black curls. 

“Looks like it’s just me and you, kid.” He sighs, adjusting her against his hip and turning back to his office, where a stack of unread scrolls have been burning a hole into the dark wood of his desk. “Well, me, you, and the work I’m never gonna get finished.” 

* * *

Kima is biting her lip so hard she’s sure she’s drawing blood at this point. Kaito is trying his hardest to calm her down, but- The Fire Lord has her child. 

“Kima, Kima, he’s not like that, I promise, he’s-” 

The last Fire Lord nearly killed his child in front of an audience. Kima doesn’t want to hear about this one. Even if it is the child who almost died. 

She hurries down the hall, Kaito at her side. She wasn’t even meant to have brought Hana in today. Her eldest, Ayuka, was meant to watch her, but she had been granted a job interview at the last minute, so Kima was forced to bring Hana in. They needed the extra income so badly, she couldn’t let Ayuka skip the interview. 

Kima stands in front of the door to the Fire Lord’s study, and she’s trembling so severely it’s difficult to even smooth down her hair. She reaches for the doorknob, but Kaito stops her. He steps in front of her and knocks before opening the door. He stands in the doorway and bows. 

  
“My Lord, I have Kima with me.” 

Kaito steps to the side, and Kima steps in, and bows so deeply her back will certainly ache in the morning. 

“Oh, uh, rise.” The Fire Lord says. 

Kima does. And nearly startles. 

The Fire Lord is cross-legged on the floor, attempting to read a briefing scroll while Hana sits in his lap, playing with a little carving of a turtleduck and tugging on his robes. 

“Hana,” The Fire Lord, and the grin on his face is so incongruent with the burn that swallows up his left eye. “Look who it is!” 

Hana looks up and shrieks “ _Mama!_ ” before she shoots off of the Fire Lord’s lap and into her arms. 

“M-my Lord, I am so sorry, I truly am, Hana must have gotten away from me, it’s not her fault, it’s not-” 

“Uh,” The Fire Lord interrupts, rubbing his neck. “Kima, was it?” 

“Y-yes, My Lord.” 

“It’s alright, Kima.” The Fire Lord says. “I’m sure it was a mistake.” 

“I deeply apologize, my Lord, I-”  
“Kima, it’s alright.” 

Silence takes over the room. Kima is simply trying to come to terms with the fact that she is not harmed, nor is her daughter, and that everyone’s okay. 

“Alright, well,” The Fire Lord says awkwardly. “I don’t want to keep you from your work.” 

“N-no, of course not, My Lord. Thank you.” 

“Bye, Zu-zu!” Hana chirps happily, and Kima swears on Agni she sees the Fire Lord wave to her daughter on her way out of the room. 

* * *

  
  


“General Kei has requested permission to move through Sailong with the troops.” Minister Seng intones. 

Zuko tightens his fists. Zuko has sent four- count ‘em, _four_ letters to General Kei about enforcing the ceasefire after getting reports that the 35th division has been intimidating small villages still, and has not gotten one answer. 

“General Kei would do well to tell me that himself,” He says through gritted teeth. “And like I have already said, we will avoid marching through _any_ Earth Kingdom towns. Tell General Kei to go around.”

“ _Around_ is the Si Wong desert, my Lord. They’ll surely perish.” Minister Seng raises an eyebrow. 

The 35th division is made of colony brats, mostly pulled unwillingly from their homes when they were younger than Zuko. They’re _kids_ , like the 41st was, and-

Zuko stares at Minister Seng for a second, his heart beginning to pound in his throat. He’s served on the council for over six years, having been installed by Ozai soon after his ascension to the throne. Zuko should clear the whole cabinet, he really should, but- he doesn’t know anyone to replace them, and he desperately needs to halt the progress of the troops as soon as possible. 

“I will look into alternatives,” Zuko says finally in the most measured tone he can manage, when he realizes getting his heart back under control is not going to happen anytime soon and that he needs to leave, now.

He gets up and hurries out of the room, fully ignoring all the muttered formalities behind him.

The hallway is blessedly clear, and Zuko only barely manages to slip into a hidden servant’s entrance he knows from a childhood of trying to evade Azula before his heart is beating in his ears and his eyes blur over. He slumps against the cool stone wall and tries to count his breaths. 

_1,2-_

He’s got to- he’s got to save them, but Kei is as vicious as they come, he won’t pass up an opportunity to terrorize a town- 

_3,4-_

They’re _kids._ The governances of some of the poorer colonies have been providing extra food rations to families who give more of their children to fight, and they don’t look too hard at the ages on enlistment papers. 

_5,6, shit, breathe, Zuko, breathe-_

Ozai used to send him casualty reports from the 41st division. They were the only letters he ever received from home. 90% of them perished in that first slaughter. Offered up like piglet-lambs on the Sages’ altar, though there’s nothing sacred about being sacrificed for your father’s ego. 

“Sir?” 

Zuko cracks open one dry eye. A familiar looking guard is standing a respectful few feet away. 

“Do you need me to send for the physician?” 

“N-no-” Zuko manages to stammer out. Oh Spirits, if Azula could see him now. He can practically hear her sneering, _can’t even talk down to the servants correctly, can you, Zu-Zu?_

“Sir,” The guard doesn’t raise an eyebrow, that would be bordering on disrespect, but he stays where he is and doesn’t seem inclined to move at any point, and that tells Zuko everything he needs to know. 

“I-I just-” Zuko drops his head. He’s so bad at this. “Could you just get me some water,” 

The guard bows and leaves, and by the time he returns Zuko has managed to bring his heartbeat into fairly normal rhythms, and the gray tint has disappeared from the edges of his vision. 

He hands Zuko a glass, and blocks him from view from passing servants as he downs the glass and wishes it were jasmine tea. He forces himself up, ignores the way his vision sways as he stands and the guard takes a step towards him, hands reached out. 

“I’m fine,” Zuko snaps. The guard immediately jumps back like he expects Zuko to burn him. 

Honestly, he probably should expect a royal to burn him. 

Zuko breathes. 

“I’m fine, thank you for your concern.” He says in a measured voice. “What was your name again?” 

The guard does raise his eyebrows now- in shock or insolence, Zuko can’t tell, and he finds he doesn’t particularly care. 

“Kaito, sir. I’m one of your personal guards.” 

“Kaito,” Zuko bows. “Thank you for your help.” 

“I-I, thank _you,_ my Lord.” 

Zuko stumbles out of the servant’s hallway and towards his office to try and rescue another division of children. 

Kaito appears long after sunset with a dinner Zuko didn’t order, and sets it on his desk without a word. Zuko half-smiles at him and manages to eat a quarter of it. 

* * *

  
“Why can’t you just stay?” He asks plainly over a cup of steaming jasmine tea. “I-it would be easier, if you stayed, if you were _regent_ -” 

“Zuko,” Uncle says gently. “I cannot.” 

“But-” 

Uncle gets up and rests a hand on Zuko’s shoulder before he continues to the side table and comes back with mooncakes. 

“My nephew, the Fire Nation is not stable.” 

Zuko just barely resists the sudden and all-encompassing urge to laugh. _Not stable_ is perhaps the most optimistic way to describe the state of the nation. Zuko would perhaps use _on the brink of internal collapse into another massive civil war,_ or _one bad move away from complete eruption into chaos,_ but Uncle has always been the sunnier of the two of them. 

“And what makes you think having _me_ as the Fire Lord is going to fix that?” Zuko says, flinging out his arms and gesturing up and down at himself. 

Uncle fixes him with a steady gaze. 

“The lessons you have learned already, Fire Lord Zuko, I did not internalize until I was an old man. I laid waste to the Earth Kingdom for many years” 

“Yes, but-” 

“What makes you think having me as your regent is going to help your relationship with the Earth Kingdom?” 

“Well,” Zuko says hesitantly. He knows Uncle is right. But on Agni, some mornings, placing the crown on his head is more difficult than being branded in front of a crowd, and the part of him that isn’t going to celebrate his seventeenth birthday because he doesn’t want any public reminders of how young he is lest someone decide that’s _too young_ to run a nation just wants someone else to deal with all of this. Just for a minute. Just let him catch his breath and slow down his heart. Just so he can sleep for a while. 

“Advisor?” He throws out, because it doesn’t matter anyway. 

“And have Minister Seng accuse you of being a puppet?” 

Zuko grips the edges of his seat and tries to drown out the urgent buzzing building in his ears and resigns himself. It’s not like he’s ever actually gotten what he wants. 

“I guess not.” He mumbles, and Uncle grips him bracingly again before sitting back down and launching into a lengthy story about the Jasmine Dragon. 

* * *

“The children are being taught propaganda,” Zuko insists, one morning after Uncle has returned to Ba Sing Se (he didn’t stay. Zuko couldn’t make him stay.) and he’s been up for only about a day, pouring through curriculum. 

The Minister for Education blinks. 

“Fire Lord,” he starts. “This has been the approved teaching for over eighty years.” 

“Uh-huh. Tell me, Minister Lee, what do you know of the Water Tribes?” 

“Savages,” The Minister shrugs. “extremely rigid gender roles, no societal advancement in centuries-” 

“Their healing techniques surpassed ours years ago.” Zuko interrupts, and thinks of Katara and a lightning strike and a twinge in his chest. “The Northern Tribe has a fully developed city with whom I intend to establish trade relations. How long do you think those will last when Fire Nation children who are taught that they’re nothing but savages grow up and become merchants?” 

“I-” 

“It was a rhetorical question.” 

Zuko stands up and drops several scrolls on the table before the minister. “Here are the outlines for a new public school curriculum. I wish for your department to fully develop these class plans and present them to me by the end of the month. I’ve given your department full access to the Royal libraries. See to it that everything in your curriculum is historically accurate.” 

Zuko gets up and makes to leave without waiting for a response. 

“I- Yes, my Lord.” 

“Oh, and-” He stops by the door. “Put _Love Amongst the Dragons_ back on the Arts curriculum.” 

* * *

“I need you to do something for me,” Mai says suddenly, after an hour of silence.

Zuko is jerked up from his fifth letter to General Kei- _yes, when I said withdraw peacefully, I meant withdraw peacefully, no, do not subjugate Sailong, do not pass go, do not collect 200 gold pieces, come home with all your child soldiers still intact, please for the love of Agni-_

“Anything, you know that,” He says, and Mai leans forward and thumbs off a bit of ink from his cheek. 

“Orphanages.” She says. 

“Yes, they exist.” Zuko says. He got a full four hours of sleep last night, so he’s in rare form. Mai raises one unimpressed eyebrow. 

“They’re majority privately-funded and subject to the whims of their benefactors,” She says dryly, and shoves a scroll in front of him. 

“Honestly, Mai, that might be better for us, we can’t really afford to-” 

“Read.” 

Zuko reads.   
  


“15,000?” He asks after a few minutes. Mai nods. 

“Rough estimate, and that’s in the mainland alone. Colonies are in rough shape.” 

“Current capacity?” After a few more minutes. 

“Government-run? 1,000, at most.” 

“Do any have schools atta-” 

“Probably less than half, and there’s rarely oversight.” 

Zuko puts down the scroll and looks at Mai for a long moment.  
“You know,” he starts. 

“Don’t say it,” She warns. 

“You know, if you were Fire Lady, you could do this without my-”  
Mai claps a hand over his mouth. 

“I love you. I’m not marrying you right now.” She says. 

Zuko clasps her wrist and presses a kiss to her palm before pulling her hand down. 

“I don’t see why not,” He says, “I’m a catch. I could very well be dead before my seventeenth birthday, and then _you_ could run the Fire Nation as regent for, oh, eighty years or so, and I could just _sleep-”_

“Zuko, the orphanages?”

He sighs. 

“I’m discharging all military personnel under the age of majority once they’re home. I’ll earmark some of the money we’ll save from shaving off a solid twenty percent of our military, and maybe we can guilt-trip some of the court into contributing- I’m going to have to get the Minister of Education involved, I don’t know who else to really to talk to, though...” 

“I’ve been thinking about that too,” Mai says. She’s not nervous, Mai’s never been nervous a moment in her life, but Zuko can tell she’s...hesitant. “I think we need to establish a department to oversee this. This is going to last at least a few decades, and maybe we can expand it, and I don’t really trust Lee. Something like Child Welfare, or, I don’t know-” 

“That’s a great idea.” Zuko says. “One one condition. You have to run it.” 

Mai blinks, and then nods decisively. 

“Alright, Fire Lord, “ She says gravely. “Your wish is my command.” 

“See you at the council meetings, Minister Mai.” 

* * *

They need to host a peace summit, Zuko realizes one day, as he’s trying to respond to letters in between staring at maps of the Si Wong desert and trying to figure out how not to kill anyone. He’s had correspondence with Kuei, Hakoda, and Arnook, but there is only so much you can hash out over letters, and the stilted cool tones from Arnook and overenthusiasm from Kuei is making him wary. The only correspondence he _truly_ trusts is with Hakoda, and that’s only because he and the Chief shared a weird, brief bonding experience when Zuko passed out from a fever in front of him, like a week after Ozai’s defeat. (The man is Sokka, but twenty years older and like, ten-times scarier. Zuko can work with that.)

Either way, a peace summit _has_ to be hosted, and by merits of being the only Capital not undergoing major rebuilding efforts- _sorry-_ the Caldera is offered up as the meeting place. 

This, of course, does not go over well with Arnook, who writes back furiously fast: _we’d have been able to host in our beautiful city if it wasn’t invaded by the Fire Nation Navy and major infrastructure destroyed, but in the name of peace, I will come with a delegation._

Kuei agrees readily and gathers up ambassadors from the major Earth Kingdom cities. Zuko is not at all surprised to see one _Lady Beifong, ambassador from Gaoling_ on the list, and nearly cracks a smile, sitting at his desk at four am for the tenth hour straight. He can only imagine two scenarios in which this occurs: Toph's parents forced her to go in order to solidify her connection with literal royalty, or she's already sick of being sheltered again and threatened violence until she was allowed to go as an Ambassador despite being, you know, twelve years old. 

Hakoda sends a confirmation only two weeks after Zuko extends the invitation. He is bringing a small group with him- just his second-in-command and representatives from the outer villages, his children, oh, and the Avatar, who Zuko already assumed would be arriving with them considering he refuses to be away from Katara for longer than a few days at a time. 

After that, it’s just a simple matter of agreeing on topics, preparing the guest rooms, and trying not to dwell on the fact that he’s inviting all his former enemies to the palace. 

* * *

“My Lord, an alternative?” Minister Seng says, in the smuggest tone that can still technically pass as demure. 

Zuko pinches the bridge of his nose as if that will actually ward off the impending migraine that’s been threatening to turn his brain into mush since this morning. He had looked at alternatives. He’d been looking at alternatives for weeks, in between preparing for the summit, trying to begin securing funding for Mai’s department and getting the last of the work camps shut down for good.

There are no alternatives. Sailong was at the very edge of the desert, and to go around the town on the other side was to be met with unknown numbers of guerilla forces that had already taken out half of the 25th division’s Komodo-rhinos. Zuko can’t- he can’t make them march through that desert, and he can’t subject them to what could be certain death. 

“General Kei may go through Sailong. But under _no circumstances_ should force be used.” He says after a long moment of wanting what’s best for his men and also wanting to punch Seng in his stupid arrogant face. 

“My Lord, even if they’re attacked?” Seng simpers. 

“Self-defense _only._ “ Zuko says shortly. “If I hear any differently, you and Kei will answer directly to me, is that understood?” 

“Of course, My Lord.” Seng bows low, far lower than what is customary for a minister to the Fire Lord. Zuko resists the childish urge to push him over. Just barely. His head hurts too much to think about that much movement, so he waves him off and leaves, his eyes graying over in all-too familiar way and a drum solo playing against his skull. 

Zuko just barely makes it back to his room before he collapses.


	2. Zuko Gets Some News

* * *

Okay, maybe that’s dramatic. Zuko doesn’t _collapse,_ that would be unseemly; he simply loses his balance and finds himself slumped against the wall by his doorway, his head pounding so hard he’s scared to open his eyes. 

“My Lord.” 

Zuko recognizes that voice, even if the sound alone is enough to make him want to throw up. 

“Kaito.” He grits out. 

“Is something wrong?” Kaito sounds concerned.

Zuko doesn’t quite get it. He’s fine, really. As soon as white-hot pain stops exploding against his skull, he’ll be just fine. Zuko tries to open an eye to assure him of this, but the sudden light hits like a blow and he gasps, throwing his arms over his face. 

“Light- the curtains-“ He manages to stutter out. Kaito, _thank Agni,_ seems to understand what he’s saying and Zuko hears the curtains being closed. The pressure on his eyes lessens slightly. 

“Your Highness-” Is the only warning Zuko gets before Kaito is gently pulling him to his feet and helping him to the bed. There’s a quiet thought in the back of his mind that Azula had punished servants for a lot less, but Zuko banishes it just as quickly. 

Zuko only has time to reach up, pull out his topknot, and get a pillow over his face to block out as much sound and light as he can before the next wave of pain hits him, and he bites his lip to stop himself from crying out. 

* * *

Kaito takes one last look at the small figure of the Fire Lord, curled up under the covers with his head buried beneath his pillow, before he turns and shuts the door quietly behind him. He turns to the guard on duty. 

“Kyo, don’t wake him unless you really have to, yeah?” 

Kyo nods, and Kaito claps him on the shoulder before setting off to find Izumi. 

It doesn’t take long. The woman is terrifyingly dedicated to her job, and Kaito isn’t sure she actually _has_ a home outside the palace. She’s not on duty, but Kaito still, predictably, finds her in the kitchen, going over security plans for the upcoming summit with a cup of steaming tea next to her. 

“Captain.” Kaito gives her a quick sign of the flame before sliding into the chair next to her. “It’s the Fire Lord.” 

Izumi looks up sharply and puts down the plans. There was an unspoken understanding in most of the personal guard- that they knew the Fire Lord seemed to be trying to work himself to death, and that, given that he was _clearly_ not cut from the same cruelly sadistic cloth as his father and his father’s father, had no heirs, and the only other person who could rule currently runs a tea shop on another continent, it would be in the best interest of everyone if that didn’t happen. 

Not that the Fire Lord was making that easy for _anyone._ He showed back up at the palace after Ozai’s defeat looking like a refugee, with ribs sticking out, shaggy hair settling around his shoulders, a lightning strike still sparking on his chest, and a stubborn drive to start fixing the entire world immediately. He had been alright while the Avatar and his friends were still in the palace- as much as Kaito wants to, he’s not able to yell at the Fire Lord to _put down the fucking calligraphy brush and go to bed, Tui and La, Zuko, it’s four-fucking-AM, I’ll drag you out by your hair, don’t think I won’t_ like the Water Tribe boy had done on multiple occasions. 

Kaito still can’t quite shake the image of the Fire Lord huddled against the wall in the servant’s hallway, gasping for air and looking so deeply and tragically _young_ that Kaito was forcibly reminded of his younger brother who was conscripted months ago. 

Kaito suspects a similar motivation drives Izumi, who has been head of security longer than the Fire Lord has been alive. She was witness at his birth and consecration to Agni, stood watch in the infirmary after that farce of an Agni Kai, and helped gather supplies when his banishment was decreed. 

“Migraine, I think.” Kaito says quietly, mindful of the servants bustling around them. “It’s bad. He’s got meetings this afternoon, but he’s in no position to-” 

Izumi holds out her hand to silence him. 

“I’ll manage his meetings.” She says shortly, already getting up. “Go alert Yao and try and let him sleep. No sense in calling the physician, you know he’ll just get upset and he’ll waste time he could be sleeping.” 

Kaito smiles grimly. If they get him to stay still for two hours, it’ll be a miracle. 

* * *

  
Zuko hasn’t been even managed to fall asleep when his door creaks open and someone says _“Fire Lord Zuko,”_ in a tone so regretful Zuko would feel bad for them if he wasn’t currently seriously considering cutting his head off just get the pounding to stop. 

Zuko forces himself to open his eyes and finds Kaito standing in the doorway.

“Sir, you’re needed in the war room. I’m afraid it’s urgent.” He says in a hushed tone that somehow still manages to grate at his ears. Zuko blinks a few times, and then the words register. War room. Right. He’s the Fire Lord. That wasn’t a long, drawn-out waking nightmare. 

“Thank you,” He grits out, and swings his legs over the side of the bed. The world spins and goes dark, and when the gray clears from his vision, Kaito is a few steps away, hands out like he expects Zuko to fall. 

“I’m _fine,”_ He manages to say, and it even comes out with a bit of a snarl. Kaito snaps back into attention and bows his head, and something ugly settles in Zuko’s stomach. 

He forces himself up and refuses to think about how it takes him nearly twice as long to get the war room as it usually would. 

The meeting is long and arduous and Zuko spends a majority of it with his jaw clenched tightly shut so he won’t throw up onto the table in front of him. The matter is important, certainly- there have been clashes in the Earth colonies, and Fire Nation citizens have died- but the High Generals have already sent in security forces. Zuko _knows_ it’s not a permanent solution, or even a great solution, just a passable one, but he can’t even walk straight, let alone think straight. 

No one is in his room when he manages to stumble back in, several hours later. But at his bedside is a glass of water, a bowl of broth, and a small bottle with instructions from the infirmary next to it. Zuko stares at the bottle for a second and briefly wonders if it’s poison; his brain beats out a war cry on his skull, and he decides he doesn’t care much either way, so he takes the medicine, has some water, and collapses into bed in his formal robes. 

He wakes up feeling almost normal. 

Huh. Guess it wasn’t poison.   
  


* * *

Someone’s trying to kill him. 

Well, granted, this isn’t a new phenomena. Someone's been trying to kill him since he was eleven and Azulon decided to use him as a pawn in a massive manipulative game of Pai Sho Zuko never learned the rules to. 

But this time is different. Maybe because every other time someone’s tried to kill him, there’s a little more- _finesse?_ \- to it. Zuko didn’t particularly _like_ his ship being blown up, but he had to admit there was some showmanship in the way that Zhao hired pirates to do his dirty work for him. 

Not to mention, it’s pretty fucking inconvenient. The first delegation is arriving in the morning. Having the Fire Lord assassinated the night before an international peace summit is perhaps the best way to plunge the world back into yet another Hundred-Years war. 

He wakes up from a fitful doze that he only just fell into to the sound of a scuffle outside his room, and Zuko is out of bed and into a defensive stance before he even processes what’s happening.The door blows open, and a black-clad figure strolls in, hands already aflame. 

It’s not a long fight. 

Whoever sent this assassin clearly didn’t account for the thirteen years Ozai spent honing his children into weapons. 

By the time the guards arrive, the assassin is slumped on his carpet, and his chest isn’t rising anymore, and there’s blood dribbling into Zuko’s mouth, he’s pretty sure his nose is broken, and it really hurts around his throat where the man grabbed him and pushed him against the wall and 

“Fuck,” he gasps, when Captain Izumi rushes forward to steady him. “ _Oh, fuck-”_

“Fire Lord Zuko, are you alright?” She asks urgently, and turns to one of the guards kneeling by the assassin’s body. “Call for the court physician.” 

“I’m _fine_ -” Zuko sputters out thickly, but his heart is all over the place and he can’t breathe right and his vision is tinged gray and he hasn’t slept in three days, so Captain Izumi steadily ignores him- _she never ignored Ozai-_ and within five minutes Zuko has been manhandled into a more-secure bedroom with no windows and double protection, and the physician is taping his nose back into place and Zuko drinks something that’s handed to him, and he wants Mai, he wants Uncle, the assassin was a _firebender_ , what if this is the true start of civil unrest, he’s- 

Out. 

When he wakes there’s no sunlight warming his skin, but his head is in Mai’s lap and she’s running her hands over his shoulders, and she’s- singing? Zuko closes his eyes again. 

He wakes up at sunrise alone. 

Maybe he was always alone. 

* * *

  
The guard who stands by his door as his stylist attempts to pull his hair into a respectable topknot isn’t familiar at all. 

“Sorry, “ Zuko says, turning his head to the guard- his stylist makes a noise of frustration, but it’s really not Zuko’s fault that a chunk of his hair is missing. The assassin was resourceful, if not powerful. “Where’s Kaito?” 

The guard starts once he realizes that Zuko is talking to him. 

“My Lord,” He bows his head. “Kaito is in the infirmary.” 

A knot appears immediately in Zuko’s stomach. Two guards were motionless in front of his door last night, but he was so out of it as Izumi muscled him down the hall, he didn’t stop to think, he didn’t even ask...

“He was on duty last night,” Zuko states. 

“Yes, My Lord.” The Guard confirms. 

“Is he- will he be alright?” 

The guard hesitates. 

“The wounds he sustained were grave, my Lord.” 

Zuko swallows thickly as the stylist slides his crown into place around the topknot. 

“Keep me, updated, please, guard..?” 

“Kuzon, sir,” 

“Kuzon, thank you.” 

“My Lord, I’ve finished with your hair, but I’m not sure what we can do about, well-” The stylist gestures to her nose. Zuko sighs and forces himself to look into the mirror. 

His nose was set as fast as possible last night, but the swelling has gone up considerably, and his unscarred eye is blackened and reduced to a slit. The bruising around his throat has darkened into some spectacular purples and red. He somehow looks more gruesome than usual, but it's already four hours past sunrise, and the delegation from the South Pole is meant to be arriving within minutes. It’s not much worse than that time he tried to kidnap Aang at the North Pole, and It’ll have to do. 

“It’s fine, thank you,” Zuko says. The stylist bows, and Zuko straightens his robes once more before he goes to the courtyard to greet his friends. 

* * *

  
“ZUKO!” 

Aang leaps off of Appa’s head and Zuko is pretty sure his feet don’t touch the ground once as he speeds towards him. He skids to a stop about a foot in front of him and his face falls into an exaggerated grimace that Zuko would roll his eyes at if he hadn’t seen his own face in a mirror not ten minutes ago. 

“Zuko, what happened to your-” 

“Oh my god, your NOSE!” Sokka screeches from atop Appa. 

“What’s wrong with Zuko’s nose?” He hears Katara say as she pokes her head out from the saddle. 

Zuko discreetly pulls his collar up and prays Sokka has somehow lost interest in poking his nose into everyone’s business in the two months since he’s last seen him. 

“Nice to see you too, Aang,” He says somewhat irritably.

Aang shakes himself and charges forward, driving Zuko to the ground with the force of his hug. Zuko looks up to find his guards making alarmed expressions, and he waves them off. The newer ones aren’t yet...acquainted with his friends’ proclivity towards physicality. After a few seconds, however, he starts to regret it- did the kid gain, like, thirty pounds in the few months since the coronation? When did he get so damn heavy? If Aang gets taller than him- 

“Sorry!” He chirps and offers Zuko a hand up. “I’m really glad to see you! But seriously, what did you do to your face?” 

Zuko opens his mouth, tries to figure out how to say _someone tried to kill me last night_ without alarming the kid, but is cut off by Sokka and Katara both slamming into him with nearly the same force as Aang. 

  
“Hi, hi,” He grumbles, as Sokka delights in the fact that he’s _taller than him, Dad, look, Zuko’s shorter than me, oh that’s so embarrassing for him-_ and then Katara has a hand on his jaw, tilting his face down so she can study it. She, at least, has not grown taller than him. Thank Agni for small miracles. 

“You broke your nose?” She asks gently. Zuko feels his breath catch in his bruised throat and he tries to move through breathing exercises to steady himself. Katara is frowning as she pulls up water to his cheek and her hand glows slightly. 

“I can definitely heal it, but the bruising is probably going to last. The blood is already settled.” She says. “What happened?” 

“Uh,” Zuko says verbosely. Hakoda ambles up, looking every inch as intimidating as Zuko remembers, with his second-in-command at his side. 

“Zuko,” He greets cheerfully. He clasps Zuko’s forearm before he hones in on the bruising around his neck and narrows his eyes. Damn. Zuko should have accounted for older-and-scarier-Sokka realizing first. 

“Son, what happened?” He asks in a low tone, and _spirits_ if that doesn’t hit him directly in the gut, _he wants Uncle-_

“Someone tried to kill me.” Zuko blurts out. 

A silence settles over the courtyard. Sokka, who was unloading the luggage, slips, and a duffel bag lands directly on his head. 

“Uh, what? When?” Aang says, and for someone who’s been almost murdered approximately a thousand times himself, he sounds very concerned. 

“Assassinate me,” Zuko corrects, rubs his neck. “Uh, last night.” 

“What the _fuck,_ Zuko!” Sokka yells. Katara doesn’t even correct his language. In fact, she’s nodding and her arms are crossed, like she agrees with his assessment. Zuko shrugs. 

“Obviously they weren’t successful,” he says. 

He hears Sokka mutter something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like _fucking dumbass motherfucker has no sense of self-preservation I’m gonna-_

“Fire Lord,” the second-in-command says, Zuko should _really_ remember his name. “We can certainly postpone talks for a day or so, at least until you can complete an investigation,” 

“Bato’s right,” Hakoda agrees. 

“Uh, that won’t be necessary, we can’t really interrogate him” Zuko says, and Aang’s eyes widen just enough that Zuko is forcibly reminded that the Avatar is a pacifist. “I-I killed him.” 

Katara nods once, jaw set, pulls him into a quick side hug that knocks her elbows into his ribs more than comforts him, then drags him by the arm inside to heal his face. 

* * *

She’s got him on a chair, head tilted back and water making his face tight in a weird, uncomfortable manner, when the Earth Kingdom delegation arrives. 

And by _arrives,_ Zuko means Toph slams open the door, screams, 

“What’s UP, LOSERS?” and immediately jumps on the nearest person, who happens to be Sokka. 

“Uh, what’s Katara doing to Zuko?” Toph asks, after she’s properly subjugated Sokka and given Aang a noogie. 

“Oh, you know, someone tried to bash his head in last night, Katara’s fixing him,” Sokka says nonchalantly. Zuko attempts to crack open his swollen eye and finds that it’s slightly more possible to see now. 

“Someone tried to kill you, eh, Sparky?” Toph asks. 

“Yeah,” Zuko says thickly, and Katara kicks his ankle with a clear message of _stop talking._

“Normal day?” Toph punches his arm. Zuko, in spite of the muscles in his face currently burning with the odd feeling of being bended back into place, grins. 

Toph frowns and crosses her arms, planting her feet more solidly.

“Zuko, your heart is really-” 

“SUKI?!?” 

Zuko looks over. Suki is in fact standing in the doorway in full Kyoshi regalia and Sokka has nearly jumped into her arms. 

“Hi!” She says brightly. 

“You didn’t tell me you were coming!” Sokka says. 

“It was a surprise,” She says. “I got Toph to pick us up,” 

“I’m _so_ happy you’re here,” Sokka says in a sappy voice that makes Zuko want to gag. 

Suki settles onto the floor next to Sokka, and Zuko stays very still under Katara’s grasp and lets himself just exist in the comfortable chatter of all his friends in one room. If he closes his eyes and sinks into it deep enough, he can almost, _almost_ , forget about the crown sitting on the table next to him.   
  


* * *

Dinner is a noisy affair. Zuko had almost forgotten what it was like to eat surrounded by friends after months of mostly silent dinners. After they’ve torn through enough spicy peanut noodles and komodo-chicken to feed a small army (it’s at least double what they would have eaten at the Western Air Temple. Maybe that’s why Aang’s gained so much weight), they go out to the courtyard so Aang can show off a new move he’s invented by combining fire and waterbending. 

“I call it, ‘The Hot Shower’!” He says.

He bends up a sizable amount of pond water and separates it into tiny droplets, his hands glowing slightly red as he does so. He flings his arms out, and a mist of warm water sprays all over Zuko’s face. 

Toph bursts into raucous laughter. 

“I thought you were gonna show us some badass, like, Avatar state move!” She says. 

Aang flushes slightly, flopping back down on the grass. Katara pats his head sympathetically as Toph continues to cackle. 

“It gets cold in the South Pole,” He says defensively. “I _hate_ cold showers.”

“Speaking of the South Pole,” Sokka drawls, rolling so his head lands in Suki’s lap. “Suki. My love. How would you feel about, oh I don’t know, a quick jaunt down to-” 

“Sokka,” Suki says in a long-suffering tone. “My girls are still recovering from prison, _and_ elections are coming up, I can’t just take off to the South Pole. If you want to come to Kyoshi-” 

Sokka responds with something, enthusiastically loud, but Zuko has no idea what it is. He’s on his back on the grass, staring up at the stars through the tree branches. The night is warm and the cricket-fireflies are chirping, and his friends are still arguing with each other in that light-hearted way Zuko has come to realize means no one’s about to try and set the other on fire, so he closes his eyes, just for a minute… 

* * *

  
Sokka doesn’t realize Zuko’s fallen asleep until after he’s finished yelling about how much he’d love to come to Kyoshi and an impromptu wrestling match with Aang lands him on the grass by the pond. One of the turtleducks, indignant at having a non-Zuko human invade their space, nips at Sokka’s hand. 

“Zuko!” He yelps as he shakes out his hand. The turtleduck falls back into the pond and turns to glower at Sokka with its massively-cute evil eyes. “Call off your attack animals!” 

“Sshh!” Toph whispers aggressively. She points at Zuko, who hasn’t even stirred throughout the whole exchange, still on the grass, and Sokka gets up on his knees to get a better look. 

He’s...asleep. One hand is curled protectively around the dark hand-print on his throat, and the other arm is thrown over his eyes. His hair is starting to come loose, and Sokka realizes the bruising around his nose and eyes isn’t the only thing off about him. 

The everpresent bags under his eyes have grown impossibly large and impossibly dark, and there’s an odd sallowness to his skin, like he hasn’t gotten enough sun. His cheekbones are jutting out in the way they did when he first showed up at the Western Temple. 

“Is it just me,” Sokka says in a hushed tone. “Or does he look really….worn out?” 

“Yeah, he really does. When I was healing him today, it was like, his energy was off. It was all twisted up inside his chest.” Katara pulls her knees to her chest and rests her chin on top. 

Toph nods and idly pulls up a stone, lobbing it at Aang’s head. He stops it mid-air and glares at her, pushing it back towards the ground. 

“Just keeping you in practice, twinkletoes.” She says. “And I know, his heartbeat is completely wack. I know being in charge is hard, but like, this seems kind of excessive, doesn’t it?” 

Sokka has to agree. Dad’s been in charge since Sokka was little, and sure, there are days when he comes home exhausted and frustrated, but the Chiefdom had never made him look like _that._ It never made him look so...on the edge.   
  


A servant in dark robes steps into the courtyard, bowing to them all. 

“Apologies for interrupting your evening, I am looking for the Fire Lord?” He asks. 

“He’s busy.” Toph says bluntly. The servant’s eyes land on Zuko, and an odd expression passes over his face. 

“That he certainly is,” He agrees. “But unfortunately this is an urgent matter.” 

Sokka sighs and looks around, silently drawing straws with everyone else. Waking up Zuko is rarely a pleasant experience. He loses, like he always does, because Suki cheats and Aang definitely uses spirit powers to influence it in his favor, and crawls over. 

  
“Zuko,” He shakes his shoulder lightly. Zuko’s bloodshot eyes snap open, and he has a tight hand encircling Sokka’s wrist and forcing it off his shoulder within milliseconds. 

“Relax, jerkbender, it’s just me.” Sokka waits for Zuko’s brain to catch up. It does, eventually, but it takes longer than it used to. He lets go of Sokka’s wrist and mumbles a hoarse apology. 

“It’s okay,” Sokka says. Zuko sits up and rubs at his eyes, wincing. 

“My Lord, You’re needed in the Guard office,” The servant calls over, bowing his head respectfully. Zuko’s expression immediately molds into something stoney and _weird._

“Is it about the…” 

“Yes, your Highness.” 

Zuko nods once and clambers up, reaching up to straighten out his crown. 

“I’m sorry, I have to go. I’ll have someone come and show you all to your rooms soon.” He says to everyone in a formal tone. 

Sokka watches Zuko retreat back into the palace with something niggling at the back of his brain. 

“So, like, we all think that something weird’s going on with him, right?” He says when the door closes completely. 

The immediate noises of agreement that come out of everyone’s mouths do nothing to assuage Sokka’s growing anxiety. 

* * *

  
“Sir,” Captain Izumi falls into a sign of the flame and then snaps back up. Zuko wearily gestures for her to begin and falls into a chair. His eyes are burning still. He rubs them again. 

“Is this about the assassin?” He asks. 

“Yes, sir,” Izumi says. “We searched the body, but unfortunately could not find anything identifiable. However, his complexion and firebending indicate that he’s full-blooded Fire Nation.”

The everpresent pit in Zuko’s core takes another bite out of his stomach lining. It really is coming from within his own Nation. Would Uncle come out of retirement if-? 

“There’s something else, sir.” Izumi pulls out a small white capsule and sets it on the table. “We found this embedded in one of his teeth.” 

Zuko stares at it. That’s a practice used exclusively in elite Fire Nation special forces. 

“It’s..?”

“Cyanide.” Izumi confirms. “Even if you hadn’t taken him out, sir, we wouldn’t have been able to interrogate him.” 

“What are we gonna do?” Zuko asks after biting back a hysterical laugh that bubbles up into his throat. It’s really not befitting of his station. 

Izumi looks just as grim and stern as she always has. When Zuko was little, it scared him, but now her predictability is comforting. Zuko doesn’t know much, but he does know with complete certainty that the sun will rise, he will be buried with work, and Izumi will look like she’s five seconds away from murdering someone at any given moment. 

“We’ll be doubling your security at night, sir.” 

Zuko personally thinks that if the assassin could get through two guards with ease, four won’t be much of an issue. He decides not to voice that thought. He stands and rubs absently at the bruises around his neck. 

“Did the Northern Water Tribe delegation get in alright?” He asks. 

“Yes, sir, they’ve already been shown to their quarters.” 

“Good.” Zuko nods. “With any luck, this will be the last of the assassins.” 

Even as it comes out of his mouth it sounds ridiculous. Izumi’s stoney expression doesn’t change, but Zuko can tell she thinks so, too.   
  


* * *

He doesn’t sleep much that night, but he never does, so he rises with the sun anyways and downs the strongest tea the kitchen will send up for him before the chef starts making passive-aggressive comments about tea not being a substitute for sleep. 

His heart skips weirdly in his chest as the stylist finishes his topknot, tutting about his hair needing a proper trim. Zuko takes another sip of the black tea and ignores it, staring at the agenda for today’s talks until they blur in front of his eyes.   
  


* * *

  
Zuko squares his shoulders and is about to head into the full, chattering conference room when he hears someone say,

“Fire Lord Zuko-” 

Zuko turns around and finds Kuzon heading down the hall, helmet tipped up. 

“Sir, you asked me to update you on Kaito?” He says. Zuko nods tightly, not trusting his voice. 

“Sir, I’m very sorry- his injuries were severe. The doctor doesn’t think he’s going to make it.” 

Zuko allows himself exactly thirty seconds to stand still and get the growing panic rising in his chest to simmer back down before he nods once. 

“Th-thank you, Kuzon. Please let me know if anything changes.” He says. Kuzon’s expression is odd, and he makes the sign of the flame before resuming his post right outside the doorway. 

Zuko takes a deep breath, holds it for a few seconds, and empties his lungs before he steps into the room. 

It quiets instantly, and the eyes of every major world leader, with his friends interspersed between them, settle on Zuko. 

“Thank you all for being here,” He starts, and thank fuck, his voice doesn’t waver. “I deeply appreciate the long travels many of you have had to make to be here. I strongly believe this summit will help us strengthen the ties between our nations, and continue to build upon the peace that we have achieved together. “ 

He sits down next to Aang and lays out his scrolls, shuffling through to find the agenda. 

“I believe our first topic of discussion is the use of shared funds to establish orphanages and homes for children who have lost parents in the war…” 

It goes fairly well, actually. Though, today, Zuko might be measuring “well” by whether or not someone breaks into the room and actively tries to kill him. That doesn’t happen, so it goes well. They’re far past orphanages, having agreed with Kuei to create a joint fund for the benefit of the Earth Kingdom as part of reparations, and are in the middle of eating lunch while discussing trade routes. 

“Sorry,” Zuko blinks, as a minor Earth Kingdom dignitary finishes screaming about how trade routes are a gateway to more war, and that, perhaps the Fire Nation should stop trying to interact with the rest of the world at all. “But I’m sure you’ve realized that we’ve reached technological advancement not yet seen in your kingdom. We have healing techniques that can save a man from a terrible infection and even amputation. Are you not interested in sharing that knowledge?” 

The dignitary opens his mouth. 

“Of _course_ we are,” Toph says, crossing her arms. There’s a distinctive thump under the table and the dignitary muffles a gasp, and Zuko is sure Toph has just stomped on the man’s foot. He hides a grin. “What he was _trying to say,_ badly, is that maybe we’re worried about the Fire Nation, you know, trying to take over entire villages again?” 

Zuko is suddenly feeling less affectionate towards her. An Earth Kingdom servant comes in and hands Kuei a message, which he reads with a grim face. 

“We’re withdrawing completely, _Lady Beifong_ ,” Zuko grits out, and Toph scowls at him. “Like you all are already aware, I have sent out orders for all troops to return to the Fire Nation without _any_ further use of force, and these trade routes-” 

“Fire Lord Zuko-” Kuei interrupts. He pushes his glasses further up on my nose. “ I’m afraid I have some bad news. I’ve just received word that a small regiment of Fire Nation soldiers was passing through Sailong- peacefully, I’ve been told- and that there was contact between the troops and some, _ah,_ overenthusiastic rebels in the village.” Kuei bows his head and places the scroll down. “I’m afraid the majority of the troops have been killed.” 

Zuko’s ears are ringing. When did that start? 

He shakily places down the cup of tea in his hands and stands, staring at Kuei.

The words are bouncing around his skull, but they don’t make any sense. 

“Sorry,” Zuko says, and his voice sounds _weird_ , like it’s coming from someone else’s mouth. “What did you say?” 

A familiar gray tinge has begun to encircle his vision. A sharp pain travels from his chest up his shoulder, and he tries to, he needs to _breathe_ but his lungs aren’t cooperating at all _-_ breathe, breathe, breathe- 

“-Sir? I said the troops were killed? Fire Lord Zuko, are you alright?” 

The pain sparks again, traveling all the way to his fingers, and Zuko gasps out the last oxygen in his lungs, grabbing at the table.

Fuck- he wants Uncle. It hurts _so bad, where’s Uncle-_

“Katara, his heart-” Toph says from a thousand miles away. “He’s going to-” 

The gray covers his eyes and darkens and turns black, and 

he’s 

gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	3. Zuko Takes a Nap

Toph knew something was wrong with Zuko the minute she walked into his quarters and felt out his heartbeat. 

He had fended off an assassination attempt and apparently broken his nose in the process- Sokka had taken the time to lovingly detail for her all the ways in which Zuko’s face was currently fucked up- and Katara was trying to heal what she could before the talks started- which, fuck them, Toph just wanted to see her friends. They’d already saved the world. Couldn’t someone else be in charge of putting its broken pieces back together?

It was his heart. There was something...off about it. It had always been fluttery, a solid twenty beats faster than anyone else at any given time, but Toph walked into that room and planted her feet, and felt it _skip._

Katara was focused on healing his broken nose, and Zuko seemed half elated to be seeing his friends and half dead on his feet, so Toph didn’t say anything. 

She didn’t say anything when they were hanging out in the gardens, and Zuko fell asleep within seconds of laying down, surrounded by his friends, and his heartbeat still didn’t slow as much as it should have.

She didn’t even say anything when she was waiting inside the conference room, seated next to an idiot from Gaipan, and felt his heartbeat ratchet up outside the doorway. 

But then Kuei had told them that some Fire Nation forces had been taken out in a little Earth Kingdom town by that Godsforsaken desert, and Zuko stood up, immediately swayed on the spot, and his heart skipped again. 

And again, 

and again, 

And again. 

“Katara, his heart,” Toph warned, and she heard Katara stand. “He’s going to-” 

Zuko fell.

He crashed into the table with the uncontrolled movement of someone who had totally lost consciousness. Toph hissed out curse after curse after curse as a wave of horror and muttering went through the room, and forced her way through the crowd to Zuko’s side. 

“Get a physician!” Hakoda’s gruff voice sounded out. 

“What’s his heart doing now, Toph?” Katara was grim, kneeling next to Zuko’s prone body. 

“It’s-” Toph placed her palm flat down on the ground. “It’s really weird- it’s skipping, and then it- it stops?” 

The cork of Katara’s water-skin popped open. 

“Everyone _out,”_ Sokka was calling, stern, and Aang was half-apologizing as they herded everyone out of the room. 

“I think he’s-” Katara sat back on her heels. “Tui and La, I think he’s having a heart attack.” 

Toph stilled. Swallowed the immediate guilt that moved up from her stomach. Moved forward, found the bare shoulder where Katara had pulled off his robes, and gripped both her shaking hands around it. 

“What the _fuck,_ Zuko.” 

* * *

  
The moment his daughter said “heart attack”, Hakoda felt his own heart jump in his chest. 

He couldn’t say he was surprised. When Hakoda climbed down from Appa and saw Zuko barely standing, his face and neck a mess of dark bruising and the rest of his skin unnaturally pale, alarm bells started going off in his head. Hakoda was getting flashbacks to a few months ago- to a bad fever, and a Fire Lord too stubborn to admit he was sick. 

They had cleared the room, and he and Bato were standing by the doorway, waiting for the physician to arrive as his kids huddled around the boy’s motionless body. Neither exchanged words as they flanked the doorway, ignoring the guards posted on either side. The child had nearly been assassinated not forty-eight hours ago, and motives and opportunity were still unknown; Hakoda wasn’t leaving anything up to chance. 

Katara had cut off his outer robes, and Hakoda could see the darkened jagged edges of the lightning strike to his midsection, trailing up to his chest and covered slightly by the glow of Katara’s hand. 

“Yeah,” She confirms again. “He’s having a heart attack- there’s something really wrong with the flow of the blood to his heart-” 

Hakoda levels a weary glance at Bato, who only shakes his head. 

“Uh, aren’t heart attacks something you get when you’re older? Like, a lot older?” Aang asks hesitantly, nervously tugging on his robes. 

“I don’t know, I don’t know-” Katara seems to be on the verge of tears. “I think it has to do with the lightning strike.”

“It’s alright, Katara,’ Hakoda soothes. “Do what you can.” 

Katara’s face hardens again, and she moves forward, pulling more water onto Zuko’s chest. Someone is hurrying down the hall, but it doesn't look like the physician. A middle-aged woman with the hardened lines of a warrior steps into the room, one hand around her spear. Her eyes widen imperceptibly at the sight of the Fire Lord on the ground, unmoving. 

  
“What happened?” She asks gruffly. 

“My daughter’s a healer. She believes the Fire Lord’s had a heart attack.” Hakoda says. The woman looks at him sharply. 

“A heart attack.” She repeats. “He is sixteen.” 

“I know.” Hakoda says. 

“Azula’s lightning,” Katara calls out, a note of hysteria in her voice. Hakoda moves, but Sokka gets there first, laying a hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently. “I think it damaged his heart!” 

The woman seems to process this for a moment, and then nods curtly. “You’ve already called for the physician?” She asks. 

“Yes, but-” Hakoda looks over and catches a glance of Zuko’s slack face between Katara and Sokka, white-pale and bruised. “I am wondering if perhaps it would be a good idea to send a balloon to get Prince Iroh from Ba Sing Se.” He says, lowering his voice. 

“Yes, I think it would be.” The woman turns and nods at a guard stationed by the door, who promptly bows to her and leaves. The woman takes his place, keeping her eyes trained on Zuko. Hakoda watches her for a minute, watches as her knuckles turn white around her spear. If he didn’t know better, he would say she _cares_ about the boy in front of her. 

* * *

  
The physician arrives soon after, along with assistants and a litter. It takes him less than a minute, pressing a metal instrument to Zuko’s chest and listening through ear attachments, to confirm Katara’s diagnosis. They load him up and take off, after telling everyone to stay put. Katara walks swiftly with them, discussing possible treatment methods and mitigating further damage with the physician as they hurry down the hall. 

The door shuts behind them and plunges the room into deafening silence. Toph sits in the middle of the carpet and promptly bursts into tears. 

Hakoda stares at the heap of discarded robes, cut where Katara had slashed them open, and wishes he could do the same. 

* * *

The first and only thing Zuko is aware of is a piercing pain in his chest, traveling out and ending in a dull throbbing in his shoulders. He should have redirected the lightning better-

“You did, Zuko, you did redirect it.” 

The voice is high and familiar, but the pain is fraying his brain around the edges like a bad tapestry, and he’s so _cold,_ and darkness is inviting him in like an old friend, so he goes. He’s not _scared,_ because he can’t be scared, that’s not how Princes are, but-

He wants Uncle. He really wants Uncle. 

“He’s coming, I promise.” 

Why does the voice sound so sad? 

* * *

Katara sits back and pulls the water off of his chest and into a basin by the bedside. Her own face is covered in a salty mix of sweat and tears, and she doesn’t really know where one starts and the other begins. She grabs a towel and swipes at her face roughly, and then she stares. And tries not to burst into tears again. 

Zuko is laying so unnaturally still on the bed, the paleness of his skin nearly blending with the the sheets, that if Katara didn’t know any better, she’d think he was- 

_Stop. Don’t think that way._ She swipes at her eyes again. 

It’s been a few hours since Zuko collapsed in the conference room, and Katara has spent most of that time trying to stop his own heart from collapsing in on itself. The energy was all twisted- it would beat erratically, and jump, and then it would just stop. With no warning. His blood refused to flow in the direction it was meant to, like his heart was stopping it. 

It’s slightly better now- the beat is muffled and jumpy, but he’s still alive, and really, Katara has learned to not ask for more than what’s necessary. 

Dr. Aito had come in with his own concoctions, forcing tinctures down Zuko’s throat to bring down inflammation and regulate his body temperature, but the fact of the matter was that effectively treating a heart attack with herbal concoctions was impossible. 

If Katara hadn’t been there, Zuko would have died.

And Katara _can’t-_ she can’t lose someone else. 

Right after the comet, she and Aang had spent weeks setting up refugee camps in the heart of the Earth Kingdom. It had been hard, terrible work, and she had seen too much that the war was willing and able and _had_ taken away. Almost worse than that, she had to watch Aang take in the horror around him and come to terms with what the war had done to the world and to the people living in it. She had to watch his face grow more and more pinched, his eyes narrow, his shoulders slump. She had to watch his innocence be taken away. 

This war had taken so much from all of them. 

She won’t let it take Zuko, too. 

  
“You can’t go anywhere, you idiot,” Katara mumbles furiously. The tears drip down her jaw. “You can’t- you’re family now. You can’t _leave._ ” 

Zuko doesn’t say anything, because he’s very still and very pale and his scarring and bruising looks so much worse like this, and he suddenly looks very small, so Katara takes his hand and squeezes tight. 

“You fight, do you hear me?” She tells him. “You didn’t come all this way to give up now. You have to _fight,_ Zuko.”   
  


* * *

Hakoda clasps Bato’s forearm, and he nods before he takes off down the hall towards the Ambassadorial quarters to firmly press the dignitaries into continuing peace talks without Fire Lord Zuko, for the time being. Hakoda watches him go and sighs, feeling like he’s just lost his last ally in his one-sided battle against the kids, who have refused to leave the hallway outside the infirmary.

Hakoda doesn’t have any ridiculous notions that he’d be able to force any of the kids to do anything, but, as he watches Toph slam her fist into the wall for the tenth time that hour, and Aang try desperately to pretend like he wasn’t crying, pacing up and down the hall with feet barely touching the ground, he wishes that they were _normal_ kids and that if he told them to go to bed, they’d _listen.  
  
_

Of course, they aren’t, and they won’t. 

So Hakoda sits with them outside the room where his daughter is trying to save the Fire Lord’s life, and tries to stay calm. It doesn’t take long for Toph to sidle up next to him and drop down like a rock. She doesn’t say anything. Hakoda doesn’t make her. 

The hours drag on. An assistant comes to update them every once in a while, but it is always the same: the Fire Lord is still alive, but the situation is not stable. 

Hakoda attempts once to get them to go eat dinner, and only Aang even bothers responding by politely saying that they’d _rather stay here, just in case something happens,_ and _it’s not like they haven’t missed meals before, Mr. Hakoda, Chief, sir._

Hakoda stops trying after that. 

The hallway grows dark around them. Aang finally stops his pacing, sits next to Sokka and pulls his knees to his chest. Sokka is having an intense, quiet discussion with Suki, but Hakoda doesn’t miss how he reaches out, pulls the young airbender closer, and settles his arm around his shoulders without missing a beat in the conversation. 

Whatever they’re talking about must be important, because it continues on for a long while. Finally, Suki nods once, and Sokka leans forward to kiss her forehead. He glances at Aang, slumped against him and asleep, and then looks up and sees Toph fighting her drooping eyelids. 

  
“Hey, time for bed.” Sokka calls over. “I’m sure Dad will wake us up if something happens.” 

Hakoda snorts, waits for the onslaught. It doesn’t come. Toph doesn’t even grumble as she pads quietly over to Sokka and leans into his open arms. Aang rubs his eyes and gets to his feet. 

“I’ll be right back,” Sokka throws over his shoulder as he and Suki herd the two younger kids down the hall. 

Sure enough, he reappears within ten minutes. 

“That was impressive.” Hakoda says.

Sokka shrugs. “We were on the road for a long time.”

There’s no malice in his tone, but it cuts at Hakoda all the same. He studies his eldest son for a moment. Sokka’s not even yet growing facial hair, and yet, he’s more reserved than he used to be. A little more cautious. A hell of a lot more protective. 

His children grew up too fast. 

“I’ll wake you up if anything happens,” Hakoda affirms. “I’m going to go see how your sister is doing. Why don’t you try and get some sleep?”  
  
Sokka smiles tiredly, and he nods, like he wasn’t going to do that anyways and is in fact taking his father’s advice, before he turns back down the hallway to join the rest of the kids. 

Hakoda takes a deep breath before heading into the infirmary. The lights are dimmed, and it’s nearly entirely empty- only two beds are taken up out of roughly twenty. He spots his daughter immediately. She’s passed out, her head on Zuko’s bed and her hand clasped tight with his. He doesn’t look _better,_ but his chest is rising and falling rhythmically, and that’s probably all they can ask for right now. 

A nurse is sitting on a chair a few feet away, filling out forms and glancing up at Zuko and Katara every few seconds. “Your daughter saved his life.” She says quietly.

“She was doing what she had to,” Hakoda says.

The nurse shakes her head. “We don’t have the ability to redirect flow of blood,” she whispers. “If she hadn’t been here-” 

She cuts off abruptly. Hakoda stares at his daughter’s tear-streaked face.

“She’s fourteen.” Hakoda says. “Her ability to heal is a wonderful gift, but it is also a burden.” 

“I understand. But I’m grateful for it, anyways.” She says. She bows her head at Hakoda and goes towards the back room. 

Hakoda scrubs at his face and wonders how it’s possible he hasn’t gone gray yet. He goes around Zuko’s bed to where Katara is slumped out of her seat. 

“Katara-” He whispers, shaking her shoulder gently. Her eyes shoot open and she sits straight up, eyes immediately on Zuko. 

“Is something wrong?” She asks, already reaching for her water-skin. 

“No, no-” Hakoda soothes. “You did great. Zuko’s-” He glances at the still boy. “-stable. I’m going to keep an eye on him, why don’t you try and get some sleep?”  
  
Katara’s eyes are blown wide as she shakes her head. “I can’t.” She says hoarsely. “What if he needs me?” 

“Then I’ll wake you.” Hakoda says, firm. “There are plenty of empty beds in here. You don’t have to be far at all.” 

Katara looks at Zuko again, then nods hesitantly. She crawls into the bed next to him, pulls the covers up, and is out within a minute. Hakoda drops into the chair she vacated and tries to not let the feeling of deja-vu overwhelm him too much.   
  


* * *

Some time after midnight, the door to the infirmary creaks open and the woman from the conference room comes in.

“Chief,” She acknowledges, bowing her head slightly. Hakoda nods back. Maybe he’s already been given her name and he just forgot? Bato’s much better with that than he is. 

“Here to check on him?” He asks.

The woman nods, crosses her arms. "Him, and another one of my men.” She nods towards the only other occupied bed, where a dark-haired man has bandages up and down his midsection. “He was badly injured a few nights ago.”

“In the assasination attempt.” Hakoda finishes. 

The woman nods again and lapses into silence. 

Hakoda has learned far more about Fire Nation customs in the last few months than the rest of his life combined, so he’s nearly certain what he’s about to say is not proper, but it only takes one glance at the handprint around Zuko’s neck to remind him that he, frankly, doesn’t care. 

“Forgive me if this is out of line,” He says. “But how is it possible that a sixteen-year-old deteriorates into the condition where a heart attack is even possible?” 

It comes out sharper than he intends it to. The woman doesn’t flinch. 

“He may be sixteen, but he’s the Fire Lord.” She says. “No one has authority over him other than Agni Himself. Trust me when I say that my staff and I did what we could to ensure that he was eating and sleeping, but if you know the Fire Lord, then you know how... tenacious, he can get. These past few months have not been easy on our nation, so they have not been easy on him.” 

“Yes, but Iroh would never have let him-” 

“Prince Iroh is in Ba Sing Se,” She interrupts coolly. “He has been here twice since the coronation.” 

Hakoda stills. From the way Zuko talked about his uncle, and how Iroh had acted towards him, Hakoda had been so certain, so relieved, that someone cared about Zuko without reservation or ulterior motive. 

“But, if he’s been here, then he would have seen…” Hakoda sweeps a hand over the skinny, pale, and still frame of the Fire Lord. 

“Yes. The Fire Lord has before requested that Prince Iroh step in as regent, but the Prince turned him down.” 

Hakoda rubs his face roughly and tries to wrap his head around the idea that not only had Iroh seen Zuko in this state, but Zuko had explicitly asked for help and been denied. By Iroh. 

Tui and fucking La, it was like Zuko was born under a blood moon. 

“Okay.” He manages to get out. 

The woman nods and stands. "Keep an eye on him,” She says, her tone softened, and she disappears. 

* * *

  
Zuko wakes up gasping a few hours later. 

“Zuko,” Hakoda says, standing so he’s right in the boy’s line of vision. “It’s alright, you’re alright-” 

“Uncle-” Zuko chokes out, one hand on his chest. 

Hakoda bites down on his tongue and leans forward, pushing Zuko’s hair off his forehead. “He’s coming, Zuko, don’t worry.” 

“Don’t worry, Uncle. M’okay.” He mumbles. 

His eyes are clouded over and he’s already fighting unconsciousness. Hakoda can’t bring himself to correct him. 

“I’ll always worry about you.” He says softly. “That’s my right.” 

“Don’t need to,” Zuko insists, and he sighs, leaning into Hakoda’s hand. “Chest hurts. Hurts bad.” 

“I know it does. It’ll pass soon.” 

Hakoda glances up, wondering if he should wake up Katara, but his choice has already been made for him. His overly-alert daughter is already up and popping open her water-skin on the other side of the bed. 

“It’s okay, Zuko, just go back to sleep,” Katara whispers, spooling the water into a disk and lowering it onto his chest. She stays there for a minute, concentrating hard, until Zuko’s eyes have fluttered shut again and his breathing evens out. Katara slumps forward and pulls the water back. She puts two shaking fingers under Zuko’s jaw, just above the expansive bruise. 

“He’s okay.” She says, and Hakoda can’t tell if it’s for her benefit or his.

He comes around and wraps his collapsing daughter into a tight hug. “I am _so proud_ of you,” He whispers into her hair. “Your mother would be so proud of you.” 

“I’m t-tired.” Katara says plainly. She fists her hands into his tunic. “Dad, I’m really tired.” 

“Go back to bed, sweetheart-” 

“ _No._ ” Katara interrupts. Hakoda tightens his embrace around her shaking shoulders. “I’m so tired. I’m so tired of everything always being _so hard._ I d-don’t wanna lose anyone else. I don’t wanna- I don’t want-” 

She dissolves into silent sobs, and all Hakoda can do is press her close to him and steel himself against the tears that are already rushing unbidden to his eyes.

* * *

  
She falls asleep against his shoulder. Hakoda gently lays his daughter in bed, tucks her dark hair behind her ears, and pulls the covers up. He sits down heavily next to Zuko and feels twenty years older than he did this morning. 

* * *

Iroh arrives as thunder breaks across the sky, an hour before sunrise. The door opens, and he strides in, soaking wet, with a wild look in his eyes. Hakoda is standing and crossing his arms tight before he even fully registers what’s happening. 

“Iroh,” He greets coolly. Iroh doesn’t seem to notice his tone. He goes immediately to Zuko’s bedside. 

“Nephew,” Iroh whispers. 

Zuko’s eyes blink open blearily, and a small smile comes across his face. “Missed you,” Zuko slurs. 

“I missed you, too. Go back to sleep, my dear boy.” Iroh says softly.

“Don’t leave me.” 

“I won’t go anywhere.” 

True to his word, Iroh sits right next to Zuko, hand tight around his. Hakoda moves, sitting between his and Katara’s beds. He glances back; his daughter is still blessedly asleep. 

Hakoda doesn’t waste time. 

“Where have you been?” He asks Iroh bluntly.

Iroh’s jaw tightens; he glances down. “I understand that you must think ill of me-” He starts. 

“Think _ill?”_ Hakoda interrupts, laughing humorlessly. “I’ve been with your nephew for a little over twenty-four hours. It took me about two minutes to clock that something was _very wrong_ with him. He’s been barely sleeping. Barely eating. They’ve been trying to get him to slow down, but no one can order around the Fire Lord.” 

Iroh stays silent. Hakoda piles on. 

“Someone tried to kill your nephew two nights ago.” He says. Iroh flinches. “He killed them, instead. Yesterday, he had a godsdamn heart attack during a conference. A fucking _heart attack,_ Iroh. He’s sixteen years old. When I asked his guard, when I asked, how is it possible a sixteen-year-old deteriorated this way, and no one intervened, do you know what she told me? She said, ‘Fire Lord Zuko requested that Prince Iroh step in as regent, but he _declined’_.” 

Hakoda is shaking. He stands, turns away, flexes his fists. 

“Chief Hakoda, I understand your frustration with me.” Iroh says quietly. “If it was one of your children I found as you did my nephew, I would be just as outraged. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to tell you something I haven’t told Zuko, that perhaps would allow you to understand my situation.” 

Hakoda doesn’t want to hear _shit._ But someone has to be an adult in this situation, and he’s fucking sick of it being the children asleep in the beds next to him and down the hall, so he takes a deep breath and sits back down in his chair. 

“Do you know the other title I am known as?” Iroh fixes him with a golden stare, lit up by the lightning striking outside the window. 

“The Dragon of the West.” Hakoda says tonelessly.

Iroh nods. “I spent decades as a firm believer in Lord Azulon’s relentless campaign to subjugate the entire world. I spent 600 days laying siege to the walls of Ba Sing Se.” 

Hakoda knows. He knows all of this. “And?” he says. “What changed?” 

“My son died.” Iroh says simply. “I am sorry to say that it took a personal loss for me to reevaluate the value of the war that I was waging, but it did. I underwent a metamorphosis not unlike the one my nephew did. It was difficult, and it was painful, but I came out the other side actively working to impede war efforts as much as I could from the inside. I’m a very different man than who I was as a young adult. But that does not erase what I did before Lu Ten’s passing. Many have not forgiven me for my transgressions, as is their right, and many want retribution.” 

Iroh’s head bows, and an inkling of understanding blooms in Hakoda’s chest. 

“You’ve also had assasination attempts.” 

“Five in the past month, some certainly Fire Nation in origin.” Iroh says, barely above a whisper. His eyes are fixed on Zuko’s motionless face. “I couldn’t knowingly place him in more danger. If I came back to the palace, it was almost a certainty that they would follow me here. And Zuko…” 

“He would have placed himself in front of you.” 

“Even if it meant his life for mine. Every time. Without a second thought. I couldn’t let him.” Iroh seems to steel himself. “But now- it seems like it doesn’t matter much.”

“No,” Hakoda agrees. He fixes his eyes on the black eye, the dark handprint, the fractal scarring up his chest, the old rough skin about his cheekbone. “I don’t think it does. I think he needs you, here, and we’ll figure out the rest as it happens.” 

“Thank you again, Hakoda.” Iroh says quietly, leaning forward and placing a soft hand on Zuko’s cheek. “I have not been there for my child, and to know that you were, helps.” 

Hakoda shakes his head. “You know the kids. They did everything.” 

“But you stayed with him when I did not, and that is a debt I will never be able to repay.” Iroh insists. “Thank you.”

* * *

When Zuko wakes again, the sun is high in the sky. He blinks and stares at the light splayed across the ceiling. He can’t even remember the last time he slept past sunrise. 

Weird. 

And then the panic sets in. 

His first meeting usually takes place only two hours past sunrise- fuck, he’s definitely late, shit, fuck- He tries to sit up- A blinding pain explodes across his chest. Zuko gasps and shuts his eyes tight. 

“Zuko, _stay down-”_ Uncle says sternly, and pushes gently down on his shoulder. 

The pain recedes, bit by bit, and Zuko counts his breaths until he feels less likely to fall right back into the dark. He cracks his eyes open again. Uncle is standing above him, one hand on his bare shoulder. He looks weary and his topknot is askew on his head. 

“You don’t look good.” He mumbles out, and _ouch_ it hurts to talk. What’s Uncle even doing here?

Uncle laughs, but Zuko thinks he might be crying. 

“My dear boy, it’s not me you should be worried about.” 

Zuko has no clue what that means, but he’s only ever been able to understand half of what exits Uncle’s mouth anyways, so he lets it go. Uncle is waving someone over and Zuko realizes with a jolt that he’s not in his room, but in the infirmary. His shoulders are sore like he’s done two-hundred flame push-ups, but- he can’t stop himself from reaching up and feeling his face. There are no bandages completely obscuring his vision. He finds the edges of his scar, rough and ugly, but _healed_ , and breathes. 

He’s not thirteen. He’s not burning. 

“Fire Lord,” A physician bustles over, a scroll in hand and bows quickly. “I’m Dr. Aito. I treated you yesterday, with help from your healer friend.” 

Right, he’s the Fire Lord. And yesterday. Yesterday was the first day of the summit. Yesterday- yesterday- 

Yesterday, the 35th division was slaughtered.

Yesterday, and today, and tomorrow, it’s Zuko’s fault. 

“So I fainted.” He says brusquely. “What’s the big deal? I need to get back to the summit.” 

_He has so many letters to write to so many parents._

“Fire Lord Zuko,” Dr. Aito says. “You didn’t faint. You had a heart attack.” 

The words enter his brain, rattle around a little, and make no more sense a minute after than when he says them. 

“A...heart attack?” He asks. He looks at Uncle, expecting a grin, some chuckles, because this is all a big setup to teach him about the dangers of overwork, but Uncle is grim. 

“Yes.” Dr. Aito says. “Your friend Katara saved your life.” 

“Not the first time she’s done that.” Zuko says faintly. 

His chest hurts. His heart hurts. It’s his fault. A whole division is dead. _It’s his fault._

“I’m tired, Uncle,” he whispers. 

“So sleep, nephew.” 

“I’m _really_ tired.” He insists, because his eyes are filling up with tears, and the world is going soft-hazy around the edges. Someone- _Uncle, Uncle’s here_ , _he’s not alone_ \- is running their hands through his hair and pulling his covers up, and he just wants to _sleep-_

“Rest, my dear child. I will not leave you again.” 

* * *


	4. Zuko Pays a Visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wowEE this was a big boy! thanks to everyone for being patient as I got this last chap out :)

Zuko is still sleeping when Katara checks up on him in the late morning. She feels a little more human, after sleeping a few extra hours and Aang bringing her breakfast and tea. She looks at his face, now still with the slackness of sleep instead of unconsciousness, and just breathes. The worst has passed. The worst has to have passed because if it hasn’t- 

“Ms. Katara,” Dr. Aito bows his head. Katara likes Dr. Aito; he’s big, like Dad, but hasn’t once raised his voice, he’s sharp and well-studied, and best of all, he clearly _cares_ about his patients. Katara thinks somewhat viciously that she’d like to watch Pakku tell this hulking frame of a man, who sterilizes his tools with quick blasts of flame from his palms, to his face, that healing is a woman’s work.

“I’d like to thank you again for your skills. Fire Lord Zuko is very different from his predecessors, and, well-” Dr. Aito spares a quick glance at the bed. “-we haven’t had hope in a long time.” 

“He’s not going anywhere.” Katara says firmly. “Not if I have anything to say about it.” 

Dr. Aito smiles. Katara _knows_ he’s been up all night and yet he doesn’t even look tired. She slept in between healing sessions once Dad came in, and she still feels like Appa trampled her over twice. It’s not fair _._

“It’s a holdover from Medical School and my residency.” he laughs, and Katara flushes. She definitely needs to sleep more. She did _not_ mean to say that out loud. “But perhaps, you should use the Fire Lord as an example and not aspire to my sleep habits.” 

“Maybe not.” She admits. 

“I came over to ask you for one more favor.” He says, and gestures for her to follow him. He leads her to the only other occupied bed, which has been screened in. He pulls one of the screens away.  
  
An unconscious man is laying on the sheets, bandages wrapped up his midsection. Katara doesn’t need Toph there to know that his breathing is slow and shallow, his pulse weak and thready. 

“This is Kaito,” the doctor says. He slowly begins peeling off the bandages from his midsection. “He was gravely injured in the assasination attempt the other night and has been unconscious since then. We did all we could, but he lost a great deal of blood, and the wound was deep-” 

Katara pulls away the rest of the bandages and inspects the wound. It’s deep alright, and they haven’t even bothered with stitches, which makes sense. An injury like this would need several layers of stitching, would need irrigation and thorough cleaning to prevent infection beforehand, and even then, it was likely to get infected. Judging by the red, inflamed skin surrounding the wound, it already has. She forms some water into a disk and presses it into the wound. 

After hours and hours of alternating between guiding Zuko’s blood back into an unwilling heart and attempting to repair the damaged muscle through blocked chi paths and messed-up energy, a stab wound, even a threatening one like this one, is practically a paper cut. There are signs of infection starting to show, yes, but Katara can easily clear those. 

She looks up to Dr. Aito. 

“I can definitely heal him, if you could just get me more clean water.” 

He grins as he walks again, and Katara swears he can hear him muttering under his breath about the stupidity of waging war on the best healers in the world. 

* * *

Zuko _tries_ to stay still as Katara bends the glowing water into his chest, because her face is screwed up in concentration and she looks deadly serious, but it feels so _weird._ He knows the talks have been continuing without him, that nothing requires his immediate attention right now (save the letter writing. He needs to write the letters. Needs to apologize for his inability to keep the kids safe- keep his people safe), but that doesn’t stop the nervous energy telling him he needs to get up and _go go go_ from thrumming in his veins. 

“How’s he sound, Toph?” Katara asks. Toph frowns and tilts her head like it’ll help her hear better. 

“Better,” she confirms. “I mean, he still sounds like a hummingbird on cactus juice, like he always does, but I don’t hear the skip anymore.” 

Katara sighs in relief and pulls the water out. She sits down next to him, and Zuko tries to pull his robe shut, but his arms feel like lead, so he gives up. 

“Am I gonna live?” He asks, raspy. Katara shoots him a dirty look like he’s made a bad joke. Zuko doesn’t get it. 

“Yes, but if you keep going the way you were, it’ll happen again.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean that when you took that lightning for me, you didn’t redirect it well.” 

Zuko blinks, affronted. 

“Okay, well, next time Azula breaks the rules of an Agni Kai and tries to murder you, I’ll be sure to-” 

“Shut up, idiot,” Toph flops down on the edge of the bed. “She’s saying the lightning damaged your heart, and that’s why you had a heart attack in the first place.” 

And Zuko wants to laugh, he does, because Azula would find this so funny. That she lost- the throne, the Agni Kai, her freedom, and she’s _still_ somehow finding ways to fuck up Zuko’s life. Maybe he won’t end up a _real_ Fire Lord, like she always said he wouldn’t, because she’s right. Because he’s too weak _._

Zuko really wants to laugh. 

But Katara looks upset and Toph’s not joking, and Uncle looked so tired before Dr. Aito forced him to lie down in the back room, and this is the first time he’s been lucid longer than a few minutes at a time. So he doesn’t laugh. 

“I don’t have an heir.” He says instead, because it’s true. 

Katara looks confused, but Toph’s face immediately screws up. 

“Are you fucking _stupid?”_ She hisses. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be nice to me, I had a heart-”  
“I don’t give a flying fuck. _What the hell is your problem?_ ” 

“Toph!” Katara chastises. 

“Katara.” Toph crosses her arms tight. “Idiot boy here is saying he doesn’t have an heir because he thinks that’s the only issue with him having almost died.” 

Katara’s mouth falls open. She looks like she’s about to yell at him, which is fine, she’s yelled at him plenty of times. Instead she just slumps down and rubs her eyes, and that’s worse, somehow. 

“ _Zuko,”_ she says heavily. “I don’t even- I don’t know what to say-” 

“I do.” Toph says. “You’re dumber than I thought if you think that none of us would care if you died.” 

Zuko opens his mouth to say something, but he doesn’t even know what he wants to say. It’s not that he didn’t think they’d care, it’s just- how does he explain that his existence revolves around setting right to his father’s wrongs, healing the infection rotting deep within his nation, offering aid for the wounds they forcibly inflicted on the rest of the world? That he shoulders the guilt and the work and the blame because he has to, because no one else can? That it doesn’t stop him from desperately wanting to just sleep, to be five years old again and to have the weight of the world rest on someone else’s shoulders? That he understands why someone’s trying to kill him? That he can’t help but think- if the assassin had succeeded- then at least- at least he’d be able to _rest-_

Toph blazes on. 

“You’re _our_ idiot, you can’t _go anywhere, because, because-”_

And then Zuko realizes that Katara’s not the one sniffling, voice wavering. It’s Toph. 

“Toph?” He asks curiously. 

She bursts into tears. 

  
“I felt it!” She wails. “I felt your heart skip, and I didn’t say anything, because I didn’t know, and then you _passed out-”_

Zuko does laugh. He doesn’t even pretend like it’s not at least partially due to the opium Dr. Aito dripped down his throat an hour ago with zero regards to his protestations. 

“Toph,” He rubs at his eyes, and he’s crying, but he can’t stop giggling, it’s not funny- _but it is,_ because Toph thinks that being unaware of what a heart attack sounds like is somehow akin to the dozens of times people have deliberately tried to kill him- from Azula, aged eight, pushing him out of a tree, aged ten, holding him under the waves until his lungs burn, his father shooting cool lightning at him, to just a few days ago, the blood stains on his carpet. “Toph, oh, Agni-” 

Toph launches herself at the bed and wraps her arms around his midsection, and Zuko doesn’t even care that it makes him ache. He holds her as tight as he can and tries not to think about Azula, locked away in a facility. 

“It’s not your fault.” Zuko says into her hair. “It’s really, really not.” 

“Not at all.” Katara agrees wearily. “You couldn’t have known that it meant something.” 

“If Zuko wasn’t so much of an _idiot-”_ Toph sniffles into his chest, the sobs dying down. 

“I am pretty stupid.” He muses. Katara even smiles a little.

Toph huffs and pushes herself up, cracking her knuckles threateningly as if that will make up for the shame of having emotions. 

“Don’t do it again, Sparky, or I’ll kill you myself.” She threatens, red-eyed. 

Zuko shrugs. “You can try.” He says lazily. “Never really seems to stick, though.” 

* * *

He falls into a drug-induced doze not long after that, and when he wakes, it’s dark, and Uncle is back in his chair, fast asleep. 

It becomes apparent within seconds that this afternoon was an aberration, and that this pain in his chest is simply going to be a constant that he has to get used to, like how he can’t really hear out of his left ear, and how migraines will strike without warning, like a hurricane, and leave him just as devastated.

“Your friends are mean to you.” A voice says from the other side of the infirmary. 

Zuko starts and winces when the quick movement sends sharp pains down his side. A torch is lit with a flick of a wrist, and a man becomes visible in the bed across from him, pale and drawn, hair loose, skin bare save for the bandages around his stomach, but alive, alive, alive- 

“Kaito?” Zuko says incredulously. He rubs his eyes. The man doesn’t disappear. 

“My Lord.” Kaito inclines his head. “I would bow, but-” He gestures at the bandages, smiling wryly. 

“I-I thought- Kuzon told me-” 

“Your healer friend. She saved my life.” 

“She does that.” Zuko says distantly. 

“Like I said. Your friends are mean to you.” Kaito’s tone is far less controlled than it usually is. 

Zuko huffs a laugh. “I’ve been treated a lot worse.” 

Kaito grunts in agreement, and Zuko sits back on his pillows. 

“I’m sorry.” He says quietly, after a few moments of silence. Kaito quirks his head at him. 

“Sorry, my Lord?” He asks. 

“You nearly died protecting me. I’m sorry.” 

“So did you.” Kaito says. 

Zuko reaches up and feels the ridge of his nose, the bone slowly reattaching where Katara had set it. 

“I knew it was going to happen, when I was crowned. I knew what I was getting myself into, that people were going to try and kill me.” 

“So did I.” Kaito says, chuckling. His voice is light and teasing, and Zuko suddenly misses Lu Ten with an intense rush of grief he hasn’t felt in years. 

“What do you mean?” He asks.

“I knew what I was getting into, being in the Fire Lord’s personal guard.” Kaito says. 

“Then why-” 

“My kid brother Tadashi was conscripted a few months ago. He’s your age. A little older.” Kaito’s voice hardens, the torch leaps higher. “I knew I was going to be next. I needed to care for my family, and I can’t do that all the way in the Earth Kingdom. So I joined the guard.” 

The vice that settles around Zuko’s throat barely allows him to choke out, “W- what division?” 

“82nd.” 

The vice relaxes infinitesimally. Zuko may have killed hundreds of kid brothers, but he hasn’t killed Kaito’s. 

“I’m trying to get them all back and discharged.” He offers. “Everyone under the age of majority. I’m- I’m really trying.” 

“I know.” Kaito says softly. “I know you are.” 

“I fucked up.” Zuko says abruptly. He grasps tightly at the blankets. Uncle snores, but he doesn’t wake. Kaito stays quiet. So Zuko continues.

“The 35th division. They were returning from the Earth Kingdom. Their CO wanted to go through a town, but I was worried about a conflict, so I said no, at first. But it was on the edge of the Si Wong desert, and it was _dangerous_ , and I just wanted them home. So I- I told them to go through the town, and-“

Zuko cuts off. The guilt is rising in him like an acidic steam, burning it’s way through his throat. 

“And?” Kaito prompts gently. 

“Rebels in the town took them out. Almost all of them.” Zuko manages, strangled. “It wasn’t their fault- they were kids, they were conscripted, they didn’t- it wasn’t their conflict, and they were _killed._ I- I killed them.” 

Kaito’s jaw tightens. 

It’s silent for so long Zuko resigns himself to having lost whatever slight, tenuous relationship was being built between them and stares at the ceiling. 

“You didn’t kill them.” Kaito says finally, his voice rough. Zuko jerks his head up and finds Kaito sitting ramrod straight, staring at him. 

“What?” His throat is dry. “ _I_ gave the order-” 

“Why?” Kaito interrupts. “Why did you give it?” 

Zuko stares at him. 

“The-the desert is dangerous. There were reports of guerrilla troops surrounding the town on the other side. I-I thought going through Sailong was the best way to keep them safe-” 

“So you were trying to keep them safe.” Kaito says. 

“Yes?” Obviously he was trying to keep them safe. 

“You didn’t kill them.” Kaito repeats, and it’s softer this time. “It wasn’t your fault, Fire Lord Zuko. You made the best decision with the information you had.” 

“But-” 

“But what? Did you know there were rebels in the town? Did you knowingly send them to their death?” 

“No, but-” Zuko cuts himself off, buries his head in his hands. It _was_ his fault, it will _always_ be his fault, but- “I’m responsible for them.” He whispers. “And I failed them, so it’s my fault.” 

Kaito nods slowly. 

“And that makes you a great leader,” he says. “To care so deeply about your people. But you did not kill them.” 

“I just-” Zuko grips the blankets tight; the jagged broken skin around one of his fingers starts to bleed sluggishly. 

“I know.” Kaito says gently, and though there’s no way he can know, it makes Zuko feel better anyways. “I know.” 

* * *

Mai arrives in the infirmary some time the next morning, when Uncle has stepped out to get a pot of tea and breakfast for Zuko. Kaito is sound asleep and Dr. Aito is in the back room, so Zuko is alone when the door opens and closes nearly silently, and Mai appears at his bedside. 

He blinks blearily at her and reaches up to move some hair that’s fallen in her face out of the way. She grabs his wrist and stops him dead. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks. 

Mai stares at him for a solid few seconds before she sinks heavily into the mattress next to him. 

“You had a heart attack.” She says slowly. 

“Yes.” Zuko confirms. His chest hurts just enough that he’s pretty sure he didn’t hallucinate that whole sequence. 

“No one told me.” Mai says. “I was on Ember Island to see Tom-Tom and my mom. I didn’t- no one told me. I had to find out from one of the merchants in the market.” 

“I’m really sorry.” Zuko says honestly and tries to will the last dregs of opium out of his brain. “I’ve sort of been out of it-”  
“Did you really almost die?” She asks so quietly Zuko wouldn’t have even been completely sure she said it if he hadn’t seen her mouth move. 

“Uh-” He looks down at the exposed lightning scar on his chest. “Yes? But Katara healed me, and-” 

He’s cut off by Mai swiftly wrapping her arms under his shoulders and tucking her head under his chin. She holds him, and Mai doesn’t cry, but her shoulders are shaking, so he just kisses her hair and holds her back. 

“I’m okay, now.” Zuko says, half-honestly. “It’s not like this is the first time I’ve almost-died.” 

“Shut up.” She advises him, and kisses his jaw before leaning back. “Don’t do that again. Don’t.” She deliberately moves her sleeves so the knives perpetually strapped to her wrist flash silver. 

“I won’t.” He promises. “I’m sorry.” 

She sighs and leans forward, tipping her head onto his chest. Zuko carefully moves his somewhat-leaden arms up around her shoulders, holding her in place. 

“You know,” He starts, a half-grin on his face. He feels Mai still under his hands. 

“Don’t.” She warns.  
“If you were Fire Lady- _”_

She cuts him off with a sound kiss. Zuko can’t say he disagrees with her method of interruption.

* * *

Zuko asks Mai to step in as his representative in the talks, and she flashes a sharp smile that makes him genuinely scared for the rest of the dignitaries. Somehow, Zuko thinks she’ll have none of his compunction about cutting off obnoxious Earth Kingdom ambassadors who seem hellbent on nailing one-hundred years of atrocities to Zuko’s sixteen-year-old back. 

Within a day, Dr. Aito and Katara declare he’s well enough to move back to his quarters, so long as he subjects himself to daily check-ups and perpetual mothering by Katara, interspersed with some light bullying, which- _fine._ He just _knows_ the pile of paperwork on his desk has grown to truly appalling heights, and he really needs to get going on it. 

He should have known that there was absolutely no way the universe was going to be kind enough to let him do that. 

Uncle cheerfully escorts him to bed, pulls the blankets up to his chin like he’s thirteen again with a fever on the _Wani,_ and proceeds to sit down right next to him and pull out a budget scroll he clearly pilfered from the mountain on Zuko’s desk. 

Zuko stares at him for a second. 

“Uncle, what are you doing?” He asks. Uncle doesn’t even bother putting down the scroll. 

“Reading up, Lord Zuko. Go to sleep.” 

“For what?” Zuko says blankly. What in Agni’s name could Uncle want with a budget scroll?

Uncle finally puts it down and gives him a look as if he should already know. 

“My nephew, if you want reliable advice from your advisors, they have to be well-read, do they not?” 

“Well, yes, but-” Zuko cuts himself off. _Advisor. Uncle. Advisor Uncle._ “You- you’re staying?” 

Uncle smiles. It doesn’t really reach his eyes. 

“Yes. For as long as you need me. I should not have said no to you in the first place.” He says softly.

It’s like a weight is taken off his chest, and he’s finally able to breathe. He’s not alone. He doesn’t have to be alone. But then-

“What about everything you said about the Earth Kingdom? What about the Jasmine Dragon?”

“It is still true.” Uncle admits. “It will make things more difficult. And my manager has taken over for the time being. Will you still have me?” 

“Yes.” Zuko nearly trips over the word in his mouth in his haste to get it out. “Yes. Stay.” 

“Good. I’d heard you haven’t been eating enough.” Uncle eyes his baggy robes and crosses his arms. “Clearly, my associates were not exaggerating. Sleep, Fire Lord Zuko. I’ll order you some lunch.” 

Zuko considers protesting being told to what to- he’s not a _child,_ he’ll be seventeen in a few weeks- but he’s so tired, and the sounds of Uncle humming quietly as he reads through the scroll and the warmth of Agni’s light on his face is enough to lull him to sleep, so he goes. 

* * *

When he wakes, Uncle is gone, and in his place is Sokka, who’s munching nonchalantly on a roll, and Suki, who’s sitting cross-legged on the carpet repairing her armor. 

Zuko scrunches his nose up and groans, throwing a pillow over his face. 

“Am I being babysat?” He mumbles, muffled.

“Yup!” Sokka says cheerfully. “If you didn’t want to be babysat, you should have tried not having a heart attack.” 

Zuko pulls the pillow off his head and glares at him, but Sokka, as always, is unbothered. 

“You used to be scared of me.” Zuko sighs, sitting up.

“And you used to be scary.” Sokka retorts. “Hard to be scared of a guy who hangs out with turtleducks in his spare time.” 

Suki snorts, gets up, plucks the rest of the roll out of Sokka’s hand and pops it in her mouth. “Your uncle told us you have to eat all of your lunch.” She informs him, placing a tray on the bed. 

“This is _worse_ than being babysat.” He complains. It’s not even a heavy lunch- Uncle ordered him broth, some fresh mango, and a few rolls. 

“Tough luck, hotman.” Sokka says. “Eat or suffer consequences.” 

Zuko makes a face at him but takes a sip of the broth. It’s not bad, and even more surprisingly, his stomach doesn’t immediately revolt. He takes another. 

“How are the talks going?” He asks. Suki stretches and swings over the banister to sit on his bed cross-legged. 

“Better, now that Mai’s there.” She says. 

“Your girlfriend is _scary.”_ Sokka says.

“But effective.” Suki adds. “I think they’re finishing up finalizing the trade routes today. King Kuei brought up the issue of the colonies.” 

“What about them?” 

“Well, they were Earth Kingdom territory, originally, weren’t they?” 

“Yes?” Zuko says. 

“Kuei wants them back.” 

Sokka puts his feet up on the bed, and Zuko suddenly has very little appetite. There have been clashes between colonials and Earth Kingdom citizens- a lot more since Zuko’s pulled out a majority of the troops. But some colonies were established decades ago and families have multiple generations there. 

He shakes his head. 

“I can’t just _pull_ people out- it’s not that easy.”

“Why not?” Sokka crosses his arms. 

“They’re civilians. Some of the colonies were founded in Sozin’s time. I can’t just uproot thousands of families when I have nowhere to put them.”

Sokka’s eyes are narrowed. He leans forward. 

“They’re living on stolen land.” He says. “It’s not the Earth Kingdom’s fault your family’s imperialist and psychotic-“

“I _know,_ you’re right, but the war’s harmed my people, too, I’m not gonna hurt them any more than I have to-“

“Hey.” Suki stands and pushes Sokka back in his seat, and gently pulls down on Zuko’s hunched up shoulders. “Calm down, both of you. We’ll figure it out. But maybe, when we’re sure Zuko’s heart isn’t going to give out?” 

Zuko slumps against his pillow and realizes he didn’t even notice his heart hammering in his ears. 

“I think Katara would kill me if I gave you another heart attack.” Sokka says. “Yeah. Let’s table it.” 

“Fine.” Zuko mumbles. “Did my uncle say I can start catching up on my notes or is that not allowed either?” 

“After you eat.” Sokka says, and gives him a half-smile of truce as he picks a piece of mango off of his plate. “I’ll help you out, don’t worry.” 

* * *

True to her word, Izumi installs four guards outside Zuko’s door, and Uncle takes up quarters right next to him, so they both seem convinced he’s covered. 

Zuko guesses no one thought about the windows. 

Dr. Aito blessedly allows him to stop taking the stupid fucking drugs that make him so woozy he’s barely conscious, and switches him to a willowbark tea that delights Uncle but tastes so bitter Zuko can barely swallow it. It’s a small miracle, however, because it means when his windows creak open a few hours after midnight that night, he jerks awake at the sound. 

The assassin is hooded again, but Zuko can see for himself the amber-golden eyes, because whoever sent them clearly learned their lesson, and there’s no grand entrance to alert the guards, fists a-blazing. The assassin has a hand clapped tight over his mouth and a blade held to his throat before Zuko can even struggle to sit up properly. 

The eyes narrow as if the assassin is smiling. 

“I’d heard you were, ah, incapacitated.” He croons in a low whisper. “Mommy’s little boy couldn’t handle the stress of being Fire Lord? Not to worry, child. Why don’t you just take a nice, long nap-“ the blade digs into his throat, Zuko tries to get himself to _breathe, breathe, breathe-_ “-and let the adults take care of this?” 

There’s a sharp sting as the blade begins to cut skin, and Zuko inhales deep, ignores the burning in his lungs, and exhales fire. 

It’s not nearly up to Uncle’s par, but it reaches far enough to lick at the assassin’s eyes, and he yelps and stumbles back. Zuko twists the knife off of his throat and out of the man’s hand in one fluid motion and leaps out of bed. A bar of stone emerges from the floor, and the man, still shrieking and scrabbling at his eyes, stumbles over it and lands hard on the ground. Zuko whirls around.

Toph is in the doorway in her nightclothes, standing at half the height of her guards, who are surrounding her, spears drawn. She flicks her wrists up and slabs of stone cover the man’s body up to his shoulders and hold him in place. Zuko stares at her, breathing heavy. 

“I-“ he gasps out- _Agni,_ his chest hurts. “I had it covered.”

Toph crosses her arms. 

“Sure you did, dummy.” She says. 

The man snarls in frustration, and Zuko wipes off the beads of blood that are dribbling down his neck with the back of his hand before he drops down to his knees and pulls the hood off. The man is working his jaw in a bizarrely contorted way, and it takes Zuko a second to realize what he’s doing. 

“ _Fuck-"_ He hisses. 

He forces the man’s mouth open and ignores Toph’s confused sounds as he runs his fingers along the flats of his teeth until he finds the capsule and yanks it out. He stands back up, holding up the capsule, and turns to his guards, who are moving forward with firebender-proofed handcuffs. The room spins in beat with the pounding in his head as he does so, and Zuko bites down to keep from crying out. 

“Cyanide.” He explains faintly to Toph with a leaden tongue. “He was gonna-“

“Good thinking, Sparky.” The room is going fuzzy-gray, and there are two small, firm hands around his bicep, leading him to the couch and shoving him down. “Now sit down and stay down.” 

“What happened?” 

Zuko knows that voice- just mean enough to scare even Azula into behaving. He forces his eyes open and can make out a faint array of colorful blobs that make up Captain Izumi. 

“Assassin.” He mumbles. “I got the- the pill.” He holds it up, and suddenly Izumi is crouching next to him, tilting up his chin so she can inspect his throat.

“Are you hurt anywhere else, Fire Lord Zuko?” She asks urgently. 

“Mm-mm.” He shakes his head, gestures at his throat. “That’s it.” 

“Get Healer Katara in here and wake up Prince Iroh.” Izumi orders over her shoulder. There’s some muffled shouting and thumping as the guards drag away the assassin. 

“What’s going on?” Aang’s sleepy voice floats in, and Zuko blinks rapidly until his vision clears enough to see the Avatar, standing barefoot and shirtless in his doorway, clearly having just rolled out of bed. “Zuko! Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, thanks to me.” Toph flops down on the couch next to him and snakes her hand around his wrist. Two of her fingers press hard on his pulse point, and Zuko doesn’t say anything, just tugs her a little closer. Aang perches himself on the armrest next to him and rubs his eyes, staring at the blood dribbling down Zuko’s throat. 

“He tried to _slit your throat?_ ” Aang says, aghast. 

“Yeah, but he didn’t get too far.” 

“Again, thanks to me.” Toph says. “What do we say, boys?” 

“Thank you, Sifu Toph.” Aang says gravely. 

“And?” Toph prompts. 

“And you’re the greatest earthbender in the world?” 

“ _And?”_

“ZUKO!” 

Zuko looks up. Uncle comes in, flanked by Katara, Sokka, and Suki, looking harried and panicked. Uncle bends down and pulls him into a bone-crushing hug, and Zuko slumps against him. He smells like Jasmine tea and mint, and he’s so warm and-

“Let me see.” Katara says gently.

Uncle lets go, planting a quick kiss on his forehead before allowing Katara to take his place. Zuko feels like he probably should be embarrassed, but honestly, he’s too tired to consider any emotions right now. Katara inspects the cut, then presses a small, cool pool of water against his throat. 

“It’s shallow.” She says, relieved. “He didn’t get anywhere near any big veins.”

“Spirits, Zuko, you just have to out-do yourself constantly, don’t you?” Sokka sighs. 

“Can’t let you hog all the spotlight.” Zuko manages to rasp out, and gets a kick to his ankle from Katara for his troubles. 

Katara finishes up the same time Uncle returns from talking to Izumi and Hakoda, who showed up a few minutes after everyone else did. 

“We have him in custody.” Uncle says to Zuko, offering a hand to haul him up from the couch. The two twelve-year-olds currently ensconced into him whine in protest and Uncle relinquishes his grip. “He’s secure, but not talking. What would you like to do, Fire Lord Zuko?”

“I could kill him for you?” Toph offers. Zuko claps a hand over her mouth. 

“No.” He says firmly. “We need to find out who’s sending them.”

“Yes,” Uncle agrees. “But perhaps he’ll be more open to talking after a while in Izumi’s company? I believe you could use more sleep.”

“He definitely needs to sleep.” Katara pipes up. Zuko scowls at her, but she just sticks out her tongue. 

“Fine. Tomorrow morning.” He acquiesces. 

Uncle smiles. 

“Captain Izumi has requested that you all move into a more-easily secured room. Come, I’ll make us some tea.” 

Toph doesn’t let go of his hand all the way down the hallway and into the sitting room, and Aang is still pressed to his side long after the jasmine tea Uncle hands out to everyone has gone cold in their cups. There’s no windows in this one, and Izumi goes overboard and places eight guards outside the door and another two inside. 

Zuko, frankly, would have felt safe even if there were no guards. Suki runs her fingers through his loose hair and begs to braid it, Toph refuses to move further than six inches away from him, Aang and Katara are a foot away, switching off telling stories about their adventures, and Sokka is playing Pai Sho with Uncle, and clearly, from the indignant noises coming from him, is finding out just how much he cheats. 

Toph still hasn’t let go of his hand when most everyone is asleep, an hour later. She’s still, her jaw clenched tight, and Zuko might be terrible at reading people on his best days, but he’d have to be a full-blown dumbass to not see that something’s wrong. 

“Are you okay?” Zuko ventures.  
“Oh, yeah.” She scoffs. “Totally fine. I almost lost the closest thing I have to a brother three times in a few days. I’m moon-peachy keen.” 

Zuko stares at her for a few seconds, registers the words in his head. _Brother._ She drags her knees up to her chest and squeezes his hand tighter. 

“I’m sorry.” He offers. “I didn’t mean to?” He gets a stiff punch to his upper arm. 

“You’re stupid.” She informs him. 

“So you’ve told me.” 

She falls silent. They sit together for a few minutes. Zuko loves all of his friends, he really does, but Agni if he doesn’t adore how Toph doesn’t feel the need to fill every still second with chattering. 

“How was home?” He asks softly, on a hunch, when she doesn’t even try to lay down to sleep. She shakes her head. 

“It wasn’t.” She says shortly, and goes silent again. 

Zuko waits. She finally gives in and starts talking. 

“I helped save the fucking world, and they’re still so _bent_ on the fact that I’m blind, like it makes me _helpless-”_

She cuts off and slams her fist into the ground. A dull boom reverberates that makes Zuko concerned for the foundation of the Palace, but he shrugs it off. 

“You’re not helpless.” He tells her. 

“I know that.” She snaps. 

“You also don’t have to go back to your parents.” 

“I...I don’t?” She tilts her head. 

“No.” He says firmly. “You can stay here. For however long you want. Up to you. You’re the furthest thing from helpless, Toph. You can do whatever you want.” 

“Huh.” She muses. “Your guards _do_ kinda suck. Maybe I will stay.” 

Zuko huffs a quiet laugh and musses up her hair. She scowls and throws off his hand, but leans into him anyways. Within a few minutes, she’s asleep. 

Zuko falls asleep soon after in blood-stained clothes, with a braid going down his neck and Toph using his arm as a pillow. It’s the best sleep he’s gotten in months. 

* * *

“Who are you working for?” 

The man sneers and laughs, stretching out his bound hands. Zuko is unimpressed by his practiced casualty. 

“And why should I tell you, child?” He says. Izumi starts and moves forward, but Zuko holds up a hand to stop her. 

“You may think I’m young,” Zuko says calmly. “But frankly, your opinion holds no bearing on the fact that I am the Fire Lord, and your allegiance is to me.” 

“My allegiance is to the line of _Sozin_ , not to weak, miserable, banished bastards with the mark of a traitor-“

He’s cut off by a backhand to his mouth, courtesy of Izumi. Zuko feels an odd surge of affection towards her, doesn’t bother waving her off. 

“Try again.” She advises him. “Who are you working for?” 

“And what are you gonna do if I don’t talk?” He asks, raising his eyebrows. “I know the little boy banned torture last month.” 

Spirits, if Zuko were one year younger- he could have blown up on this man and left the room black with his soot and blamed it all on his temper. He glances back at Uncle, who’s standing quietly at the door, and sighs. 

“I did. I don’t regret it.” Zuko says. “You won’t be tortured. You won’t even be killed, though that would be a mercy. Did you know that there are cells under this palace?” 

The man’s eyes widen. 

“They’re deep underground.” Zuko continues. “No windows, no access to sunlight. Some have said that it’s deep enough that firebenders lose their connection to Agni within a few weeks. I’m sure you know that losing your bending is a deeply painful event, especially for firebenders.” 

“You wouldn’t _dare-_ “ the man snarls. 

“I would.” Zuko says. “Who are you working for?” 

The man stares at him for a long, long moment, jaw set, then slumps down. 

“Fine. I’ll tell you.” 

* * *

Seng. Gao. Kei. 

Countless others. Half his council and a quarter of the High Generals. 

The plan was simple: eliminate the last remaining heirs- Zuko in the Palace and Uncle in Ba Sing Se- and stage a military coup. It certainly could have worked. A good many of the high officers hold no great affection for Zuko’s radical military reform. 

Zuko strides into his council room with Captain Izumi on one side and Kuzon on the other, Uncle a few steps behind. 

“You knew about Sailong, didn’t you?” He asks Seng, who’s eyeing up the guards behind him warily. 

“M-my Lord?” 

“You knew. You knew about the rebel forces.”

Seng swallows, looks like he may stand. The guards on either side of the doors move forward in unison and he sits back down, his face falling into something angry and bitter. 

“We had won the world, fulfilled your great-grandfather’s vision, and what did you do? Tell us to withdraw all our troops and undo all progress your own countrymen had spent one-hundred years bleeding to make. I thought, perhaps, if you _saw_ those Earth rebels were willing to do, you’d understand-“

“I understand _plenty.”_ Zuko snarls. His heart picks up pace. He ignores it and breathes deep. “I understand how little value you hold for human life- for a soldier’s life. I understand that you sacrificed the 35th for your useless ambition just like you did the 41st. I understand you’re a traitor to your position, to your country, to the line of Sozin, and to the Dragon Throne. _I understand plenty._ ” 

He turns to Izumi and clenches his fists tight. “Arrest him.” He orders, and marches straight out the door as Seng throws outraged insults at his back. He keeps going down the hall as his heart beats faster and faster and his lungs constrict, until he reaches his study. He slumps against the walls and buries his face in his hands until- 

“Zuko.” 

Uncle is standing in front of him with a glass of water in his hands. 

“Th-thanks,” he says shakily, and takes the glass from him. 

“Are you alright?” 

Zuko waits until he can take a sip of the water without it sloshing all down the front of his robes to respond. 

“I think so.” He says. “Now I am.” 

Uncle smiles and reaches up to smooth down some of his hair. 

“I’m so proud of you.” He says softly. “I don’t think I’ve said it enough.” 

Zuko feels his throat catch, his face heat up. 

_Weak,_ Azula whispers. 

_Shut up,_ Zuko growls. 

He tips his head onto Uncle’s shoulder and stays completely still as Uncle wraps his arms around him and allows himself to just breathe. 

“I need a new council.” He mumbles into Uncle’s robes. Uncle chuckles and pats the back of his head. 

“You do. I’ll help you find some. Don’t you know all old people know each other?” 

* * *

The talks end civilly, with a few plans in place, the promise to continue negotiations via letters, and a proposal to head to Ba Sing Se for another summit in twelve months’ time. The Southern Water Tribe is the last delegation to leave, and as Aang loads the last of the luggage onto Appa, Hakoda pulls him into a bone-crushing hug. 

“You can always send a letter, Fire Lord Zuko,” He says, and Zuko turns red and rubs the back of his neck. 

“Uh, thank you.” He stutters out. 

“And you can always come to the South Pole!” Katara offers, before she hugs him tight. She looks him up and down one last time. “I’m gonna need to give you check-ups, anyways.” 

“Duly noted.” Zuko says. Aang flips off of Appa’s head and throws his arms around him. 

“Don’t do it, Zuko.” He stage-whispers into his good ear. “It’s _super_ cold up there. Let’s meet somewhere warm.” 

Zuko huffs a laugh and rubs his knuckles against Aang’s arrow. 

“Don’t get taller than me.” He tells him. Aang grins. 

“No promises, Fire Lord Hotman.” 

“Sokka, come on! We have to get going.” Hakoda calls. Zuko looks back. Sokka and Suki are standing on the steps together. 

“Actually, Dad-“ Sokka says hesitantly. He looks at Zuko. “If you’ll have me, I’d like to stick around for a while. Your new Trade Minister knew like, nothing about the Water Tribe’s exports, and if we’re gonna start trading, they’re gonna need to know a little more about us than _fish_ and _ice._ And we haven’t finished our argument. I have an idea for the colonies I want to talk to you about.” 

Zuko has to stop himself from yelling out a loud, obnoxious affirmation, and instead looks at Sokka and grins. 

“Y-yes! Yes, of course. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want!” 

Sokka claps him on the shoulder on the way to his Dad, who hugs him tight. 

“A few months.” Hakoda says. “And then you’re coming home. I can’t be Chief forever. _And_ you have to write.” 

Sokka rolls his eyes. 

“Yes, Dad, of course. Suki?” Sokka looks at her, prompting. 

“Well, Fire Lord Zuko, I think we’ve all seen that your security is somewhat lacking right now.” Suki crosses her arms. 

From her position by the door, Izumi bristles. Zuko waves her off. 

“And?” He asks. 

“I’d like to extend the Kyoshi Warriors’ services as a personal security detail.” Suki says. 

Her smile is a little bit sharp, her blue eyes glint cool in the sun, and Zuko is forcibly reminded that he attempted to burn down Kyoshi Island. He swallows thickly. Well, if they’re anything like Suki, if they don’t kill him, they’re definitely scary enough to ward off anymore would-be assassins. 

“Mai will be so happy to have Ty-Lee home.” He says. Sokka whoops. 

“Yes! Team Boiling Rock together again!” He crows, wrapping one arm around Zuko’s shoulders and the other around Suki’s. 

“You idiots are going to annoy the hell out of me,” Toph sighs, but wriggles her way in between Sokka and Zuko anyways. 

Katara climbs down to hug her brother again before Appa takes off, and the four of them stand together in the courtyard, watching as Appa grows smaller and smaller, heading towards the sun in the bright blue sky. 

* * *

Azula has been held in an institution outside the Caldera since the Agni Kai. Zuko hasn’t yet been allowed in the room- she still isn’t quite stable enough for that- but he goes and sits outside in the hallway and talks with her sometimes, tells her what’s happening in the outside world. She doesn’t talk back, but that’s alright. 

It’s raining today. It beats down on the roof of the building, and Zuko listens to it for a few minutes as he sits with his back to Azula’s door. 

“Mai’s doing well. She’s been working to establish orphanages all over the Fire Nation. It’s pretty amazing.” He says quietly. Something thumps rhythmically against the wall, like Azula’s throwing a ball. “And Ty-Lee’s back at the palace. They said they’ll come and see you soon. Uncle Iroh’s back, too. He’s talking to your doctors now, but he’ll be up when he’s finished.”

Zuko examines his jagged nails. Thunder booms overhead. 

“I had a heart attack.” He says. The thumping stops. “Because you shot me with lightning. It damaged my heart.” 

It’s silent for several minutes. Zuko’s about to get up and go so he can make it to his afternoon Agricultural meeting on time when he hears,

“That’s unfortunate.” 

Azula’s voice is flat, raspy. Almost quiet. Zuko pauses and leans his head back against the door. 

“It is.” He agrees wearily. “It is unfortunate.” 

Azula doesn’t say anything else. Zuko eyes Uncle coming down the hall and gets up. 

“Uncle Iroh’s here. You still have me, Azula. You still have Uncle. I’ll be back soon.” He tells her. 

“Okay.” Azula says, and Zuko presses his forehead against the door for a short moment before he walks down and meets Uncle. Uncle claps him silently on the shoulder as he passes, and Zuko turns to watch as he sits cross-legged in the spot Zuko has just vacated. 

“Good morning, my niece.” Uncle says softly to the door. 

* * *

Zuko stares blankly at the scroll in front of him. He’d been up with Sokka until well after midnight, arguing about imposing an import tax on textiles from the Water Tribes. Once he had gotten back to his room, he realized he had completely forgotten to prepare for a meeting with the new War Minister in the morning, and doubled back to his office to read the preparation materials. 

The door creaks open and Zuko whips around, but it’s just Uncle, rubbing his eyes. 

“What are you doing up, my nephew?” He says, voice rough with sleep. 

“Meeting with Minister Daichi tomorrow. Had to read the force readiness reports.” He mumbles. 

“Hmm.” Uncle says. He stretches and yawns wide. “Perhaps it can wait until the morning? You cannot fix the world in one night.” 

Zuko stares down at the characters blurring in front of his eyes and nods. 

“You’re right, Uncle. I’ll go to sleep.” 

Uncle smiles and nods. 

“Good night then, my nephew. Sleep well.” 

“You, too.” 

The door shuts behind Uncle, and Zuko stands and takes one last look at the never-ending pile of scrolls on his desk before he extinguishes the candles with a wave of his fingers. He stumbles to his room while undoing his topknot and rubbing at where the tension headache is forming between his eyes. He falls into bed, only half of his formal robes off, and finds, to his surprise, that it’s already occupied. 

He plants a soft kiss on Mai’s forehead, and she stretches, half-awake. 

“Took you long enough.” She says sleepily, curling her fingers around his robe and pulling him down. 

“Sorry.” He whispers, letting his head fall onto the pillows and yanking out the last of the pins from his hair. “If I knew you were here, I would have been here a lot sooner.” 

“Mmm.” She agrees. She puts her head on his chest and sighs contentedly. “Go to sleep, Zuko.” 

He settles an arm around her waist and pulls her as close as he can. 

“Yes, ma’am.” He says softly into her hair. 

When he wakes she’s still there. There’s still a headache behind his eyes, he still has a thousand things to do today, there are still ten-thousand broken things he has to repair, but she’s still there. He’s not alone. 

Maybe he never really was alone. 

* * *

_You will burn and you will burn out; you will be healed and come back again._

-Fyodor Dostoevsky, _The Brothers Karamazov_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 21k later...........
> 
> this was so fun to write! difficult, but fun. I think i forgot i was capable of writing more than just oneshots, so it was really satisfying to get this all out :)
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's commented and subscribed- it means the world to me every time!
> 
> As always, my tumblr is ta1k-less, and i generally post excerpts and talk about what i'm writing on it, so hmu :)


End file.
